


The Chronicles of the Dark One:  Storybrooke, Maine

by Montreat11



Series: The Chronicles of the Dark One [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28070832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Montreat11/pseuds/Montreat11
Summary: There is a town in Maine where every storybook character you've ever heard of is trapped between two worlds, victims of a terrible curse... 4th in the Dark One Chronicles, a series that examines the life of Rumpelstiltskin. This fiction features everything that happens to Mr. Gold in Storybrooke, prior to Emma Swan's arrival. R/R.
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Series: The Chronicles of the Dark One [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1360273
Comments: 20
Kudos: 24





	1. Backstory

_His name was Mr. Gold._

_Mr. Gold was all he'd ever gone by, all he could ever remember being called with perhaps the one exception of Master Gold when he was a boy. Looking back, he couldn't remember a single person who had ever called him by his first name; no teachers, no friends, not even colleagues._ _No one ever asked him for his first name, and he'd never met anyone who needed it. He was only Mr. Gold. And_ _he liked it that way._

_He preferred to be Mr. Gold. Nameless, mysterious, and formal as it was, his lack of a friendly name afforded him a level of respect and fear with those he lived among. Some people worked years to develop that kind of reputation; it came simply by giving a name for him._

_"Hi, I'm Gary," they might say, extending a hand._

_He had only to stare at that hand, tighten his grip on his cane, and inform them, "you can call me Mr. Gold," and then sit back and take satisfaction in their immediate discomfort._

_As a boy, he supposed it was possible his mother might have called him by his first name. His father had always told him that it was she who gave him his first name, after an uncle or a cousin or some relative he'd never met. It didn't particularly matter to him; giving him his name hadn't exactly made his mother want to stay with him. Or his father. Though after she'd left him to grow up with his father, he couldn't say that he blamed her._

_His father was a cold man, clever and conniving. He'd often traveled while he'd been alive, leaving him home with the servants who called him Master Gold and entertained him to the best of their abilities. They never particularly cared for him, but to be fair, he never cared for them either. Young as he was, he'd always been aware that they were paid to look after him in his father's stead. Until one day, his father came home, packed a bag, and never came back._

_The servants had explained that his father had found work elsewhere that was no place for a boy his age. So he was informed he would be moving across the sea from Scotland to America. His father had a sister there, who lived with her partner, and they'd agreed to keep him with them. All on his own, a boy of only eight, he'd made the journey by plane, then train, then car to his aunt's home in a dreary little place called Storybrooke, Maine._

_Somehow he had hoped for more when he'd arrived, that he might have friends or find someone who was happy to spend time with him, but what he found in America was heartbreakingly similar to Scotland. It was another house, filled with servants that helped him dress and tutors to help him learn. At least, his aunts were around, and unlike his father, they did care for him, show him love and consideration, but they isolated themselves from the town they lived. So much so that all of them, himself included, were treated as outcasts._

_His aunts were the talk of the town. He didn't go out often, but on occasion, one of the servants who was fond of him took him somewhere as a treat. Everywhere they went, whispers followed._

_"That's the young Master Gold," they whispered._

_"Gold…as in-"_

_"The very same!"_

_"It's scandalous! Imagine, a woman living with another woman as if they were married."_

_"And now they're raising a child together?!"_

_"Just goes to show you that when you have money, you can do as you please, no morals!"_

_As a small child, he never understood what they found so scandalous. As a teenager, he grew to understand their conversations but still didn't understand why they were so flustered by his aunts. It wasn't as if his aunts interjected into the business of others or flaunted themselves about town. For the most part, they stayed hidden and out of sight, sending servants to do their tasks, content to love one another behind closed doors. His aunts never bothered with them, and he couldn't understand why they had to bother with his aunts. As far as he was concerned, they were the best people he'd ever known._

_The women doted on him as his father never had, calling him "darling" and "sweetheart" and "dear boy," but they never brought themselves to call him by the name his mother, "that pitiful woman" they called her, gave to him. They played games with him and taught him to knit and cook. His aunts bought him everything he needed or wanted. A dog for a companion, a playground for exercise, a car when he came of age to drive, and a top-notch education at the local catholic school that kept him out of the public schools. He hated the nuns who taught him, he thought they were cruel and judgmental of his family just like the rest of town, but it was because of his education that he earned him a spot at the best law school the country had to offer._

_He was sad when he had to leave them for school; away for months on end, he missed his aunts. Storybrooke and the rest of her citizens he couldn't care less for. But his aunts…he missed them terribly. He missed them so much that he returned to Storybrooke and opened his own law firm when he graduated. His aunts were primary investors, of course, but he worked hard and found he was successful. A little of this, a little of that, it was enough to keep him busy, enough to buy him his own home in town where he could stay on the weekdays and go back to his aunts during the weekends. It was an embarrassing rosy pink color, but aside from that, it was perfect. It was one of the biggest houses in town and grand beyond measure. As soon as he had it repainted, it would be nearly as intimidating and mysterious as he prided himself on being. However, that wasn't what his aunts saw when he bought it._

_"It's big enough to put a family in, darling!" his aunts smiled when they saw it._

_He'd smiled and blushed at their insinuation, but all the while, his stomach turned over. A wife and children…he knew that was the natural order of things, and yet…he couldn't see it for himself, and it wasn't something he wanted enough to pursue. He couldn't see himself ever meeting someone that would make him want to give them his first name. He couldn't imagine having a child and potentially screwing them up as his father and mother had with him. He couldn't see how any woman would ever want to deal with his leg._

_It was a burden. And the cane was a pain. Truthfully, he couldn't remember the injury. It felt like he'd had it all his life, but he was cane free in his memories as a boy and at law school. He assumed it was a car accident, perhaps something that crushed his ankle and took his memory away because when he tried to remember, tried to pull a memory from his mind to relate to it, he found a blinding pain in the back of his skull that demanded he stop thinking about it. There were times he tried to remember to ask his aunts what had happened, but he always seemed to forget. Probably because his aunts thought nothing of the affliction, they treated him no differently, no better or worse than they ever had with it. But he was certain a woman wouldn't want someone as broken as he was. True, his family had enough money he could shower any woman in jewels all the rest of her life, take her around the world on grand, expensive trips, meet all the most powerful people in the world. But he didn't want a woman who only wanted him for his wealth. He wanted something real; like his aunts had. After years of watching them together, years of battling back the stigma, and just being happy to be with one another, that was the life he dreamed of having. But he had so little experience with the opposite sex he had no idea how he'd ever discern what was real from fake. So there was no need to take the risk. Besides, why did he need to? Things were good. He had his reputation, had a home that he loved, and had his aunts…why did he need more?_

_It was September when his world fell apart._

_His aunts died barely a month apart. Cancer had claimed his aunt's partner quickly, so quickly he hadn't been prepared for it, and nor had she. A few weeks later, his father's sister had died. The doctors gave him a laundry list of reasons why it had happened; old age, failing heart, high blood pressure...but he knew why it had really happened. She'd died of a broken heart. He was a stern and serious man, unrelenting and unforgiving; it was what made him a good lawyer. He believed in material things, in money and power, in black and white, and things he could see. But he believed, truly, with his whole heart, that it was heartbreak that took her. His love hadn't been enough to keep her on this earth. And so they'd left him alone in it._

_In the months that followed, he wished he wasn't a lawyer. He knew, from experience, that it should have been easy. He should have made funeral arrangements, liquidated their property and their assets dismissed the staff, and gone on with his life. But nothing was simple, and he soon learned the truth about his aunts that led to complications._

_Why had the townspeople always bothered with them when his aunts had never bothered with the town? Because they had bothered with the town. It was theirs._

_He hadn't known it until after their death when documentation they'd had since before he'd even moved to America arrived, explaining to him that the land Storybrooke rested on belonged to his father and his aunt. Because his father couldn't be located, he was next of kin, and now it was his and his alone. The land, rental agreements, business contracts...legally, it was all his. The town existed and had a government of its own that demanded taxes, but everything outside the scope of politics fell to him. He loved his aunts, but he'd never been angrier in all his life. They'd never explained any of it to him, never told him why they owned the land or the contract they had with the city, they never taught him how to collect the rents or deal with the mayor._

_He didn't want to do it. In fact, he was tempted to turn it over to the Mayor and let her handle it, but he could hear the voice of his father in the back of his head preaching to him about money and power. Whether he'd planned on it or not, he was the most powerful citizen of the town. It wasn't something he took lightly, and he wasn't about to give it up easily. So he didn't. He crafted a persona for himself; he created a new mask, one that he wore for the Mayor, for the police, for the tenants he had to collect rent from, and the family he'd hired to help him. Mr. Gold was a name everyone knew. They didn't dare whisper about him or his aunts, not in his presence, lest he raise their rent. They didn't cross him. They didn't approach him. They didn't bother him. For the most part, they let him be. It was good, but it also meant that his firm suffered the consequences._

_It was fine. He didn't need the money; he didn't need to work. His aunts had set him up so that he could sit at home for the rest of his life and never leave the house if he so pleased, just as they had. But he wasn't them. They'd had each other, and they'd had him. He had no one, and he found himself longing for structure, for something to invest his time in, for something to occupy his days when he wasn't collecting rent or arguing with Regina Mills._

_The answer came to him when one of his tenants on Main Street informed him they wouldn't be renewing their lease._ Oak's Pawn Shop and Antiques _was closing. Mister Oak, his wife, and his dog were moving to Florida for retirement. They planned to sell the merchandise and move out, but when he stepped inside to talk about their contractual obligations, his heart had stopped._

_He loved old things. He loved their delicacy, the story behind each one, the mystery that their history presented him with. He loved the feel of the dust beneath his fingers and the coziness of the little shop. The bell on the door was darling, but it suited the place, the squeaky antique spinning wheel was familiar in a strange way, and every little thing he saw or touched seemed inviting. It felt like coming home. He hadn't had that since his aunts had died._

_Foolish as it was, he'd made a deal with the Oaks on the spot, leave the shop to him, and he'd let them out of their contract and pay them a handsome sum of money. They'd taken the deal right then and there. Two weeks later, they moved to Florida. Three weeks later, a new sign was installed over the door that said, "Mr. Gold Pawnbroker and Antiques Dealer." He taught himself the business, read every book the Oaks gave to him, let his new work consume him, and soon fell into a happy routine._

_Each morning he woke up, stretched, and got into the shower. He dressed in a suit, adding layer after layer to make any who felt the need to deal with him feel underdressed. That was a trick he'd learned as a lawyer. In the morning, he read the newspaper, cooked himself some breakfast, eggs usually, with spinach if he had it. He drove to town and parked his car in the lot or on the street. He didn't live far from work, but he wasn't about to walk there. With his leg, he'd never manage, and besides, walking might give the impression he cared about something. He walked down the street every morning. Sometimes people lifted their eyes to him in acknowledgment. He never returned the favor. As he unlocked the door to his shop, he glanced at the abandoned library on the corner across from him. It always made him feel uneasy, probably because it was becoming an eyesore. One of these days, he was going to file a complaint with Regina about that, but today there was too much to do._

_Inside the shop, he opened the blinds and took a deep breath of the musty smell that came with age. It still felt like home, probably more like home than his pink house, which he still needed to get painted. He turned the sign behind him to "open" in case someone felt like coming in to make a deal but then escaped to the back room just like always. It was his favorite place in his shop. The spinning wheel he'd first seen when he bought the place was back here, along with a fold-away cot for nights he got carried away and just decided to sleep there. There were two tables crowded into the back that he could use to polish or repair or clean or whatever he needed to do. On the table was an old clock he'd bought that no longer worked. That was his task for today._

_It was just another day in Storybrooke._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! For those of you that are just checking out this fiction, welcome! For those of you who are a fan of The Dark One Chronicles, welcome back! I hope you'll enjoy this fiction. It's the 4th in the Chronicles, a series that is an attempt at an accurate portrayal of Rumple's perspective during the Once Upon a Time series. This fiction features everything that happened in Storybrooke from the moment that everyone arrives in the Land Without Magic up to the moment that Emma arrives in Storybrooke. 
> 
> The Dark One Chronicles is meant to be a companion series with The Moments Series, which explores Once Upon a Time from Belle's perspective. This means that everything you read in the Chronicles where Belle is concerned will show up in Moments as well. It is just told from a different point of view. If you'd like to see Belle's chapters from her perspective, The Chronicles of the Dark One: Storybrooke, Maine is the companion story to Moments Seen and Unseen! You can find The Moments Series by checking out my profile.
> 
> If you enjoy this fiction, please comment or leave kudos! I always enjoy those wonderful gems waiting for me in my inbox and I love writing back to thank you personally for reading! It helps me know that I'm doing a decent job! Peace and Happy Reading!


	2. Storybrooke

_It was 1983. He'd owned the shop now for so long he couldn't remember how long he'd been doing this same routine. Each morning he woke up, stretched, and got into the shower. He dressed in a suit, adding layer after layer to make any who felt the need to deal with him feel underdressed. That was a trick he'd learned as a lawyer. He read the newspaper, cooked himself some breakfast, eggs and bacon that morning. He drove to town and parked his car in the lot, one of his usual places, and hobbled down the street to work. A couple of people passed him. He didn't avert his gaze; rather, he stared into their eyes aggressively so that if they happened to glance up, they'd immediately look away. It was intimidating, he knew it, and he didn't care. It wasn't his job to be friendly. On the contrary, part of being a pawnbroker meant using them for his own benefit. Buy low, sell high, remind them that whatever he paid them for whatever object or heirloom, no matter how precious, was not market value because he had to make his own profit when he sold it again. It didn't matter how many figures he saw when he received his banking statements in the mail; he ran the store mostly on its own profits without having to dip into his trusts or stocks or the family money. People hated him for it, some of his tenants reminded him of his money when they asked for a break on rent after a difficult month, but he only shook his head._

_"If I give you a break, then what's to stop everyone else in the town from having a break. Money runs the world. Without the drive to pay, we'd have a free society, and you can see how well that's working in certain parts of the world. It'll be full rent, on time, or we can discuss the date of your departure. Your choice."_

_They always paid._

_On his way to the shop, he spotted Marco hanging a new sign on one of the storefronts. He walked by his ladder, brushing past another individual he didn't know. They gave him a nod. He looked at them long enough to let them know he'd seen the gesture and chosen not to return it._

_As he unlocked the door to his shop, he paused glanced over his shoulder at the abandoned library on the corner across from him. He repressed a shiver as he stared at it. It was the same as always; newspapers stuck to the windows, doors locked up, clocktower boarded up, the white paint graying from snow deposits, and clock forever stuck at 8:14. The Library always made him feel uneasy, not because it looked like a haunted house, but because it was becoming an eyesore. For the most part, the town of Storybrooke was a quaint little place. It was almost as disgustingly charming as the people here could be. Their Main Street had a sense of cleanliness and decorum to uphold, and for the most part, it did. The one glaring problem with it was that damn library! It might have been fine if it was just a storefront, like the rest of the shops on Main Street, but naturally, it had to have a corner lot and hold the famed clocktower that could be seen for miles! Why the Mayor had yet to find a suitable replacement for the librarian who had died on the job was a mystery to him. Why she couldn't hire someone to at least come out and get the clock and storefront into proper working order was just incompetency. One of these days, he would file a complaint with Regina about all that, but today there was too much to do._

_Frustrated, he held his tongue, turned back to the lock, and let himself inside of his shop. He opened the blinds, flipped the sign on the door to "open" in case someone felt like coming in to make a deal, and then took a deep breath of the musty smell that came with age. It still felt like home, probably more like home than his pink house, which he still needed to get painted._

_He escaped to the back room just like always. It was his favorite place in his shop._

_The spinning wheel he'd first seen when he bought the place was back here, along with a fold-away cot for nights he got carried away and just decided to sleep there. There were two tables crowded into the back that he could use to polish or repair or clean or whatever he needed to do. It was a welcoming place._

_On the table was a golden teapot he'd bought that no longer shined; it was part of a larger set. His task for this morning was simple: polish it until it gleamed. That would earn him a good meal at Granny's for lunch before turning to repair a cup from an old tea set. Lovely thing, but there was one cup that was chipped. He could have sworn that when he'd first acquired it, the cups were whole, and he couldn't for the life of him remember how one of them had gone rogue and been broken. Nevertheless, he'd fix it. As soon as he remembered where he'd placed the chipped piece._

_Thirty minutes into his task, he was pleased. He'd polished the pot to perfection. Now for the rest of it. He took the pot out to the front of his shop along with the rag in his hand and found the spot that it belonged. The bell rang as he finished setting it out with its lid, properly clean and ready for sale. He'd make a good profit on it, but doubtful from the woman who had just entered. Regina Mills, formally known as Madam Mayor. She was young, but she'd been the Mayor here as long as he could remember. Their relationship was a complex one. As the owner of the land she ran, he had a certain amount of power in the town that she was rather jealous of. Much of their contract said that she needed to come to him for approval of anything that she wanted to present for a vote, she had to buy him out of the land that she wanted for public use, and a handful of other wonderful necessities that meant these meetings happened far more often than he'd like. It was his land. He got the first say. He supposed that made him the most powerful man in town despite her election. They were cordial when they had to be, but there was always tension underneath their politically motivated politeness._

_"I'm not happy," the Mayor snapped the moment the door closed._

_He sighed and resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her dramatics. He didn't have time to work out her problems, especially if she was going to present it with that particular song and dance. He was here to help her with the town if she needed it, but he wasn't required to listen to her when she was in a mood as she obviously was. That was for someone else to handle; otherwise, his job was to sell his baubles._

_"I believe Dr. Hopper's office is down the street."_

_"Oh, I don't wanna talk to him. I wanna talk to you."_

_"Very well, Madame Mayor. What is it you wanna talk about?" he questioned, moving on to the next item that matched the teapot, a bowl for sugar. He set it up on the counter, removed its lid, and began to rub it down. That was the problem with polishing one item and not the others; suddenly, everything else paled in comparison._

_"This town. This isn't the deal we made."_

_The deal they'd made…_

_He'd never forgotten a deal he'd made not in all his life; in fact, it was something he prided himself on. But he couldn't think of a single thing that Regina might have been referencing. "This town, this isn't the deal we made?" They'd made a lot of deals when it came to this town: when she wanted to build, how, where, jobs she wanted to create, property she wanted him to sell...but they hadn't made any deals lately, nothing that would make her unhappy. What she was upset with him about was beyond him. If she wanted help, she was going to have to be more specific._

_"I'm sorry. I don't know what you're talking about."_

_He looked her in the eye, mostly for intimidation, but also to let her know he was being truthful. It was one of the few helpful hints he had gotten from his father. Regina's gaze fell from upset to disappointed, and he was at least pleased that the gaze seemed to have worked._

_"You don't, do you?" she said in a small voice that made him think she might cry. He hoped she wouldn't. He had a handkerchief in his pocket, but not one he wanted to hand over to her or anyone. It was silk. Suddenly Regina turned away from him and hurled herself at the other end of the room. Dramatics._

_"I was supposed to be happy here."_

_"Forgive me, but, um, you're the Mayor. You're the most powerful woman in the town. What is there to be unhappy about?" he questioned. He was digging and maybe doing a bit of ego-stroking to get to the bottom of her temperament. He couldn't fix whatever deal she wasn't happy with if he didn't know what it was._

_"Everyone in this town does exactly what I want them to!"_

_"And that's a problem?" he questioned, striding around the counter._

_"Well, they do it because they have to, not because they want to. It's not real."_

_"Not happy," "supposed to be happy," "it's not real"…clearly a job for Doctor Hopper or, better yet, the young stallion of a sheriff that he suspected she was "seeing" on the side. He had work to do, and unless she had a question about the land, then she was wasting his time._

_"I'm sorry, what exactly is it you want?" He'd moved a glass mobile before he started polishing, and now he wished he hadn't. The glass unicorns hung down between him and Regina, obstructing his view of her. But he never let his eyes waver. He continued to stare at her as though she was the only one he saw. What did she want from him?_

_"Nothing you can give me," she answered after a small pause. Then she turned and left the shop, pulling something out of her pocket before she got to the door._

_Dramatics handled, he turned back to his work. He polished off the sugar bowl, the cup for creamer, four teacups, and finally four saucers. From the backroom, he retrieved a small box of cards. It was his inventory, everything in the shop had a place, and everything had a price, including the tea set. Yesterday he'd typed out the card on his typewriter, now he scratched out some of the previous notes about a lack of gleam and needing a good polish, noted that it was in excellent condition, and upped the price from $200 to $250. He should have been proud of himself, he should have felt the same satisfaction for a good morning's work that he always did, but Regina's interruption had him feeling restless. What was she talking about? What deal was she referencing? If she was the Mayor, why did he feel like he spent all his time solving her problems? So many, many questions she'd drudged up…a sure sign he needed to take a break and have lunch._

_But Granny's Diner wasn't quite the distraction he'd hoped for. After putting in his usual order with the old woman's slut of a granddaughter Ruby, he sat to wait and listened to the conversations around him. Suddenly he realized what had Regina up in arms. No one in this provincial town liked change. Everyone stuck to their routine and their schedules as if it would kill them to deviate. He was guilty of it too. But he liked to think that unlike the Mayor and the rest of Storybrooke, his world wouldn't be turned upside-down from a father and son whose car had broken down and were staying for a few days until it was fixed. Widow Lucas seemed pleased to have the business at the bed and breakfast, but the pair were all anyone was talking about at lunch. Who were they? Why were they here? How long would they be staying? Honestly, it was as if there had been a jailbreak instead of just a couple of visitors. And why it had upset Regina the way it had…_

_It wasn't his business. It wasn't his job to look after her or the town. His job was to collect rent, offer Regina consultation when she requested it, and look after his shop. Nothing else. If it didn't affect him, and it certainly hadn't so far, he didn't see the need to care._

_He retrieved his food when it was ready and took it back to the shop, putting the citizens and their gossip out of his mind. He ate and spent his time looking for the missing piece to the teacup he wanted to fix._

_It was just another day in Storybrooke._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The key to writing Storybrooke during its Curse? Repetition. Lots and lots of repetition. I know we're only two chapters in, but there should be a few sentences where the writing sounded familiar; hell, there should be a few paragraphs where the writing sounded familiar. And that's because they are. In these chapters, you will note sentences and entire sections that identical, copied word for word, from chapter to chapter to chapter. That's not done because I'm lazy (although it did present a nice break on occasion). It's done because it's made clear that Storybrooke in its Cursed state is dull. It's all about repetition, people doing the exact same thing over and over and over again, walking the same route, having the same thoughts, noticing the same things, over and over and over again. Gold is no different. That being said, the key to writing Mr. Gold/Rumpelstiltskin during the Curse? Hit him where it counts. When writing Moments, I remember thinking about how convenient it was that the Library was across the street from the Pawn Shop but really thought nothing of it. It wasn't until I was in the middle of writing The Dark Curse and Belle died that I realized...that's part of his Curse. The Library bothers him because it's not what it's supposed to be, the dead librarian is missing, it's dirty and rundown...it's missing Belle. I don't know if that was done on purpose or thought about as much as I thought about it, but as soon as I had that lightbulb, I loved it! How about you.
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you, RolfB, Chibi, and Rana for your comments on the last chapter! I'm so happy to have you reading and so thrilled that you enjoyed the backstory to Mr. Gold! I hope you'll continue to enjoy as we go forward, even if this is only a short little ficlet! See you in the next chapter! Peace and Happy Reading!


	3. Awakened

_It was 1992. He'd owned the shop now for so long he couldn't remember how long he'd been doing this same routine. Each morning he woke up, stretched, and got into the shower. He dressed in a suit, adding layer after layer to make any who felt the need to deal with him feel underdressed. That was a trick he'd learned as a lawyer. In the morning, he read the newspaper, cooked himself some breakfast, eggs usually, with spinach if he had it. He drove to town and parked his car in the lot or on the street. He didn't live far from work, but he wasn't about to walk there. With his leg, he'd never manage, and besides, walking might give the impression he cared about something. He walked down the street every morning. Sometimes people lifted their eyes to him in acknowledgment. He never returned the favor. He barely paid any attention to Marco on the ladder as he passed swiftly by him._

_As he unlocked the door to his shop, he glanced at the abandoned library on the corner across from him. It always made him feel uneasy, probably because it was becoming an eyesore. One of these days, he would file a complaint with Regina about that, but today there was too much to do._

_Inside the shop, he opened the blinds and took a deep breath of the musty smell that came with age. It still felt like home, probably more like home than his pink house, which he still needed to get painted. He turned the sign behind him to "open" in case someone felt like coming in to make a deal but then escaped to the back room just like always. It was his favorite place in his shop. The spinning wheel he'd first seen when he bought the place was back here, along with a fold-away cot for nights he got carried away and just decided to sleep there. There were two tables crowded into the back that he could use to polish or repair or clean or whatever he needed to do. On the table was a child's rocking chair he'd bought that needed just a bit of woodworking before he could put it up for sale. He had many talents, one had to be crafty in this business, but woodworking wasn't one he particularly enjoyed. Still, it would be cheaper to do it himself than wander outside to ask Marco if he would take a chance with it. Besides, it wasn't as though he was doing much today. He may as well fix the thing. It was his task for today._

_It was just another day in-_

_The bell to the front door grabbed his attention before he could really settle in to his work. He was always happy to make money, but some days he much preferred to spend the day in the company of his possessions instead of at the beck and call of whoever wanted him. He was tempted to sit there and ignore the summons, but then he remembered the jewelry he'd cleaned and placed on display yesterday. The last thing he needed was to have a theft because he'd been in a mood. He hobbled out to the front of the shop to meet a man with sandy brown hair who looked about his store confused and perhaps a bit nervous. If he had to guess, he was probably there to buy an engagement ring. He looked to be about the right age. He certainly had that look of being out of breath, which could often be attributed to being nervous._

_"Can I help you with something?" he inquired._

_The man narrowed his eyes in his direction a look of contempt rose over his features. He looked familiar…why did he look familiar? "I almost didn't recognize you without the scales," the man breathed after a moment._

_He felt a twitch in his neck at that comment. Scales…the man remembered him with scales? He had scales he used to weigh objects and precious gems but only in the back of the shop. Very few had ever seen the back of his shop. He'd remember if he'd ever invited him in the back, and he knew he hadn't. Who was he?_

_"Excuse me?"_

_"Oh, cut the act. There is no way you would let yourself fall under the power of Regina's curse when she's still awake."_

_He felt a chill run up his back as he thought through the words the man had said. About the only word that had made sense was "Regina," everything else sounded like gibberish. But gibberish the man was convinced of. He did appear confused. Perhaps he'd hit his head? Or was a patient of Dr. Hopper?_

_"You don't seem very well. If you're looking for Dr. Hopper, his office is just down the street," he suggested._

_"All right. Enough games. I put my daughter through a wardrobe because you told me it would break the curse. Now, where is she?"_

_Then again, perhaps it was a little bit more than a bump on the head. The man was clearly in a fragile mental state and growing angrier by the second. And here he stood, not another soul around with his cane as his only defense. Where was Sheriff Graham when he needed him?_

_"I have no idea what you're talking about, and I don't appreciate your tone," he snapped, trying to deescalate the tension. His words had the opposite effect._

_His heart raced as the man turned to an old umbrella stand and pulled from it a sword, one that he'd just sharpened not long ago._

_"Intimidation won't make me remember something I don't know!" he insisted as the man took a step closer._

_The man paused. His mouth was dry. He felt suddenly cold from the burst of adrenaline rushing through his body. A sword and a healthy twenty-something against a cane and a man with a limp. He could take a safe bet on who would win that fight. He needed to call the police and warn them about the man, but he couldn't do that if he died. And so he waited; waited, and watched patiently to see what he would do. Finally, he let out a sigh and squinted his eyes in the low light._

_"I guess Snow was wrong," he muttered, turning to go. He didn't hesitate; the second the man turned, he did too, in the direction of his phone so that he could call-_

_"Looks like we're gonna have to find Emma on our own."_

"Emma…"

It was like a dam had burst open. One second he'd been talking to a stranger in a dark and hazy shop; the next, he was listening to David's footsteps and the door in his pawnshop that led out to the Land Without Magic…Bae's home. Baelfire was his son, and Emma was the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming.

Emma…

"What a lovely name…"

His trigger word. It had worked.

 _"I put my daughter through a wardrobe because you told me it would break the curse. Now, where is she…"_ What was gibberish before made perfect sense now. He felt a smirk growing as the bell rang again, indicating that David had closed the door and was looking back at him.

"Perhaps I can help you."

"You are awake."

Awake. Awake finally from the curse that Regina had cast because it would bring him to this world, to Baelfire. The Dark Curse. His Curse, the Curse David's daughter, was bound to break when she returned to them.

"Just needed a proper wake-up call, one that I knew one day would come," he answered as David moved back toward him. He managed to close the distance a few steps, but he was uneasy on his feet, his entire body shaking, and this time it wasn't anything to do with a strange man and a sword threatening him with bodily harm. Instead, it had everything to do with Prince Charming holding his sword in his hand once more. His heart was pounding. With every passing second, it felt more and more like Belle was sweeping the cobwebs free from his mind. Things were growing clearer and brighter, and that included his path forward. Regina, Emma, the Curse, David, Baelfire…

Centuries of planning…all for this moment.

"Right. So where is she? Where's my daughter?" David demanded.

"I know that Emma is destined to break the Curse, but I don't know where she is and how she's meant to get back to us."

"Think harder."

He chuckled even though the Prince's tone made him want to shiver. David was the exact same person he'd been before. It was as though no time had passed at all. It was right, he knew that was how it should feel coming out of the Curse, but he hadn't been prepared for how terribly unnerving it would feel to be the same person he had been before magic again. His leg ached. When he had the full powers of the Dark One, he'd never noticed just how tall the boy was or how broad his shoulders were. He never considered just how terrifying he could be when he was worked up as he was. Being human was no more fun now, even with power, than it had been all those years ago. As much as he wanted to sit and consider what was happening around him, he was keenly aware that he needed to give David information if only to get him out of his shop.

His shop.

He was finally in his shop. The same one he'd envisioned since the Seer. It was making his head spin.

"Tell me, dearie...what was it that woke you from your miserable little life in the first place?"

"It was a flower Snow found. Its magic woke us."

A flower with the ability to wake two ordinary and non-magical individuals from a Curse as powerful as this. He could only think of one thing.

"The Pixie. Dust from that flower has the ability to reunite anyone who shares True Love."

"Like Snow and me."

"And your daughter…"

David was out the door before he could stop him and question him for more information. He tried. His first instinct was to close his eyes, summon his magic, and chase after him…but he stayed put. His legs shook beneath him. It was so bad he nearly collapsed to the floor. Instead, he clutched his cane tight as he could and stayed on his feet as knowledge swept through him in a great flood. The dam was broken. He was awake, but the Curse was still in place, and magic had not yet come. He was still weak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the 6x17 chapters, one of about two episodes that makes this ficlet worth it. Because really, we didn't see a whole lot of Storybrooke while it was Cursed, and when we did, it was mostly Regina that we saw it through with Rumple always playing a background character. But 6x17, background character or not, Rumple gets to shine here. He's got a storyline, one that's not just something on repeat as we saw at the beginning and one that will sort of help us bleed into the next fiction. In season two, when the Curse is broken, the residents sort of go through this identity crisis before concluding, "we are both our real selves and our Cursed selves." We never really see Rumple experience that. Some of it is just the writing. A&E kept us guessing as to whether or not he knew until halfway through, so they would have been sure not to show an identity crisis. But some of it is also because he knew he would end up here and had hints from the Seer. Still, I wanted him to have that experience of waking up in Storybrooke and being a little off-kilter, questioning the memories in his head, and thinking about who he was now that he was here. This episode sort of helps to do that prematurely. He has the opportunity to experience it when he wakes up for real, but half experiences it now, during the 6x17 episode. So, get ready for some awesome Rumple Gold reflections in the next chapter because they are coming at you next!
> 
> Thank you, RolfB, for your comments on the last chapter. I too enjoy some of the snark that comes into Gold's mind and find a lot of it in this chapter as well. I hope you'll find the 6x17 bits interesting. I wasn't much of a fan of this Pixie Flower storyline; it felt a bit forced and convenient to me when I first saw it. But I found myself unexpectedly pleased with how these chapters came together and worked in conjunction with the next fiction. Plus, it was a break from the monotony of the repetition. Peace and Happy Reading!


	4. Overwhelmed

With David gone, he was free to show weakness, to reach his hand out to one of the counters to help steady himself. His cane helped, but it suddenly wasn't enough. He was short of breath. He felt dizzy, like the room was spinning uncontrollably around him, morphing and changing before his eyes while it all stayed still and the same. He felt like he might be sick, but even as he stood there, huffing and puffing, staring down at the floor to try and get his bearings, he was aware that what he was feeling wasn't a physical sensation. It was a mental one. He was overwhelmed.

Over one hundred and fifty years he'd been working on that Curse…that was over one hundred and fifty years he'd been trying to find a way to the Land Without Magic to get his son back! And now, here they were. Here he was. He'd been here for years and yet this was the first opportunity for it to all hit him, the reality to truly sink in. He'd made it. Baelfire was here, in this world, somewhere! He had to find him. Now! But first…

He finally picked his head up and looked around the shop. His shop. What a strange and peculiar feeling. He knew who he was. He was Rumpelstiltskin, The Dark One, father of Baelfire. But now he was also Mr. Gold. No first name. He'd never thought that was strange before until now. Whenever he-Mr. Gold-had thought of himself he'd always thought of himself as Mr. Gold or Gold. It was his preference. He'd never considered that an oddity. It was the power of the Curse. He knew every answer to the state bar exam, knew how to stand in front of a judge, to litigate, he knew how to run a business, how to assess antiques, how to drive, he knew an infinite amount of facts and actions he hadn't known before-but he never thought twice about having no first name. Ironic, at home, he'd been a man who preferred to trade in names, and so the Curse had given him none. But it had upheld Regina's deal. The Curse had given him power. He had wealth and land, just as he'd wanted when he talked to that werewolf what seemed like eons ago! He owned Storybrooke, in addition to a home, a cabin, a fine car…and this shop.

This shop…

He felt as though he'd never seen it clearly before now, like all his life, in all his time here, he'd been living in a fog, and now the fog had cleared. He looked at the shop with new eyes, looked at all his treasures with fascination. For everything he knew about each one of them, there was now a new story.

 _Wands,_ Mr. Gold thought in his head. _A collection of six, used in pagan worship during the seventeenth century to direct magic. Pawned by an elderly man, they'd become his when he defaulted on his loan._

But that was a lie, he now knew. He'd collected those wands himself. Gotten all but one of them from a dead gypsy. The other he'd gotten from personally destroying a Fairy. They were used to channel fairy magic.

 _Necklace,_ Mr. Gold thought the moment he spotted a damaged snowflake necklace hanging in a frame. _Sold to him by a woman who was looking to pay for some books for school. It wasn't worth paying money for repairs, so he'd left it._

But that was Anna of Arendelle's necklace, the one he'd taken when he'd gone to take the Sorcerer's Hat from Ingrid and left with her niece in an urn instead. He didn't see the urn anywhere, and Mr. Gold knew that he didn't have it. There were a few things here that had been in that room, they would need to be protected, but the urn, which he hadn't thought to mark as he had so many other objects before him, was missing. Still, the wands, Anna's necklace, the globe he'd seen in his vision, Robin's bow, Geppetto's parents-or what was left of them, Snow White's boat…they were all here. Even…

He took his cane and hurried over to the hatbox that he'd once given Jefferson. He wanted to peer inside, but Gold knew it was empty even before he could open it. The hat was gone. Odd. He hadn't marked either the hat or the box, and yet one of them had made it back to him. Strange.

Cane in hand, he took one final look around and then let himself wander into the back room. Another strange sensation. He wanted to rummage, he wanted to root around his shop and locate every little thing, to identify where things were…but instead, he stayed perfectly still. He didn't have to "root around." He knew where everything was. The medallion, the one that would summon the wraith to him, was safely stored. In the safe were the adoption papers for Cinderella, called Ashley here, that would assure him a favor from Emma one day.

The Black Fairy's Wand, he knew without searching, was not in his possession. Another oddity. He had marked that wand, but he could also remember the Blue Fairy entering his property when he'd been imprisoned. If anyone was bound to take it and place a spell over it powerful enough to keep it from him in this Curse, it would be that bitch. He smirked. She wasn't a fairy here, just a human. Mother Superior, she ran the convent of nuns that he hated so. They were always late on their rent. Perhaps he could have some fun with that now that he was awake. Figured…she always played the role of Holier-Than-Thou back home, so it seemed in the Curse she did too.

Belle's chipped teacup…it was there, sitting in the back, set aside from the world because he'd been meaning to fix it despite never finding the chip that went to it. He felt a certain amount of thankfulness for that chip. If it wasn't there, he might have accidentally sold it by now. Or…

His eyes fell on the cupboard across the room. Inside was the saucer to the teacup, the one that he placed a spell on so that when the two were reunited, Pandora's Box might be revealed. He knew nothing of the box except…maybe he did. In front of that cupboard, he was aware of a hollow place under the floorboards. Gold never thought much of it but in front of the cupboard in his castle was where he'd hidden Pandora's Box. What was the chance it was there now? He didn't move to find out. He doubted it would work at the moment. He could feel magic in the air, but it was weak. Every last ounce of it in this world was being used to hold the Curse together. If he wanted to get Pandora's Box, he was going to need magic. And he needed the girl for that.

Emma.

Nearly everything he needed was here in his shop, even if Gold hadn't known it; a genie lamp, his old spinning wheel, David's sword, before he'd taken it, of course, invisible chalk for protection spells, his spell bag was most valuable at a time like this…but the egg he'd had David hide was missing. In the belly of a beast. The Library…

There had been stories for years that a dragon lived in the basement…local lore. Only right this moment, he had a feeling that it was a little more than local lore. Same for the well, the one in the middle of the woods was said to have the ability to return that which was lost. He smiled. Gold's history of this town was going to be quite helpful. He knew where the potion was, and he knew where the well was. All he needed now was the Savior, Emma, to get it for him. Where was she?

David was out looking for her at the moment. But he'd rather find her before David did. In fact…he should have…he recalled the vision he'd had in the Enchanted Forest, the one that had told him he needed Emma's name to become his trigger word. In that vision, when he woke up, he was at Granny's, in the little bed and breakfast. In that vision, the Savior stood before him. In that vision, David was nowhere to be seen. This scenario, clearly, hadn't been that scenario, but then…how was this possible? The Seer was wrong? But the Seer was never wrong? She might sometimes warn him when a vision was a possibility rather than absolute, but that vision was absolute. It shouldn't have happened this way. Why had it?

Something was wrong. If it wasn't the Seer, then something else wasn't right. But what?

The time!

He hobbled across the room to the place he kept his books. He had a theory, just one, but he needed dates to figure it out. His books were complete, they went back for decades, and naturally, it was all in his handwriting because the Curse was cleverly detailed but wading through the hazy memories Mr. Gold had, he noticed a problem. While Gold had memories of writing it all down, he couldn't find an actual memory of doing it before 1983. That meant everything before that was filled in by the Curse. They'd arrived in 1983. It was 1992. If they arrived in 1983, just after the Savior was born and sent here…the child's twenty-eighth birthday…

His head spun again, this time with disappointment and sorrow as his theory was confirmed. He felt…he felt like he had after he'd gotten back from Neverland without his father. He felt like his hopes were dashed. He'd been so excited, so ready to go and find Baelfire. But it wasn't going to be happening any time soon. Emma wasn't here. Not yet. At the moment, she couldn't have been more than...what…nine? Ten? He was still practically two decades away from getting back to his son.

But if Emma was still two decades away from arriving and breaking the Curse, why had David come in asking for her now, memories and all. And, for that matter, why had he never seen David before this moment in this town?! Was it his memory? Was he just too hazy to recall him? No. No, he was certain he'd never laid eyes on David before in this shop, but…

He had a memory, a memory that wasn't actually a memory, but rather something that had been implanted into Gold's mind. It was a memory of a windmill, one that was in his shop right now. It had been brought in by a woman who claimed it had come with a house she and her husband had just bought. Her husband, the woman claimed, couldn't stand it. The woman was familiar to him. It had been the former Princess Abigail, Midas' daughter, and David's former fiancé…in this world, she was called Kathryn, and she'd had a husband also named David, but he'd never met Kathryn's husband, he hadn't been with her on that day or ever again because…he'd left. The talk of the town…

He gripped his cane tight and focused on the floor, trying to sort through memories that weren't actually memories was giving him a headache. That could be the Curse. Many spells and curses that affected memory had a tendency to give the victim headaches when poked or prodded too much. If the Curse had been broken entirely, he might not have been feeling it, but since it wasn't broken, it was fighting back, trying to pull him under. He didn't have the magic to fix it, but Gold had Tylenol around to help. Of course, if the headache was brought on by magic, he doubted acetaminophen would help. Then again, neither was standing here gawking at words he'd never known before like Tylenol and acetaminophen. Focus. He had to focus and not grow so overwhelmed. The talk of the town, Kathryn, David…sort the memories…

The talk of the town was that David had gone away. They'd been married one day, and the next David had gone. The gossip was that after an argument, David had left Kathryn and hadn't been seen since. They'd all assumed he'd run away somewhere, but…that wasn't possible. The Curse would have made sure of it. He'd been here, all this time, but where?

Memories. So many false memories to work through, so much haze to gaze through. Where had David been?!

He knew where…the hospital. He had another memory, another cursed memory, something his mind was convinced he'd experienced, but he knew he hadn't.

Focus!

Sheriff Graham had brought a picture by once of a man who was in a coma, John Doe, they'd called him. The picture had been a polaroid taken hastily of a man in a hospital bed, wires and tubes sticking out of him so machines could monitor him. The sheriff, Regina's lover, the hunter from the Enchanted Forest who had rescued Snow and allowed Regina to take him in turn…

He breathed. He tightened his grip on his cane.

The hunter had brought the photo to him because he'd wanted to know if he recognized John Doe as a tenant. He was in a coma after being found suspiciously on the side of the road, and they had no clues as to who he might be. He hadn't either, not at the time, not in the memory. But now, he did.

The man had been David. David had been in a coma in the hospital all these years. So when David said the flower woke him up…did he mean it figuratively or literally? Or both. Regina would know. She was the maker of the Curse. She'd be awake just as he was and a few memories, real and true memories, that he possessed of their encounters together suggested that she was very aware of who she was and where she was from, but…he didn't want her to know he was awake, not until the time was right. And there was no way to have this conversation with her without revealing his own knowledge. This wasn't that time.

But right time or not, Snow and David had awakened early and were searching for their daughter; that was why her name was uttered ahead of schedule.

The pixie flower…the flower that awakened them; those flowers grew in the presence of great evil. He'd been in this town a decade already. He'd never seen the flower and knew there wasn't magic enough to grow them all in the Curse. The magic the Curse had was too busy sustaining itself. But maybe…Snow, Mary Margaret, had found the flower. She always was the target of Regina's rage. Maybe if the women had an encounter and the Evil Queen said something particularly cruel or wicked, perhaps it would allow one flower to grow. It was, as they said in this world, a fluke. Only he'd been awakened early as well. And Emma was ten, and if her parents left to find her as they seemed so determined to do…

He had to fix this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fun and interesting chapter to write because when you get right down to it, Gold has a lot of knowledge, not only in this episode but when he awakens for the second time, that he really shouldn't have. So not only did I have to contend with the trauma of waking up and having him realize he's actually two people with two full sets of individual memories, but I also had to come up with ways for Gold to possess answers that Rumple doesn't have. I had to get him to discover that they've been awakened early, that David's in a coma, that there is magic in the town, and so much more. At times it was a bit trippy to write, but also really fun.
> 
> Thank you, RolfB, for your comments on the last chapter. I really hope that you enjoy this one. I know it's not a big action chapter, but it was fun realizing that Rumple would not react like the rest of us would. I, personally, would probably root around, even with all my knowledge, just to hold the precious items I hadn't realized I'd lost. I liked having the realization that Rumple would just sort of stand there and be like, "yeah, I know it's there, I don't need to touch it," as he bounces from one object to another. Peace and Happy Reading!


	5. Powerless

He had to fix this. And he knew how.

Snow and David awake ahead of schedule, wanting to go out and find their daughter…this wasn't how it was supposed to be. The Seer said that Emma would return on her twenty-eighth birthday. He hadn't a clue how that was going to play out, but he had a terrible feeling that if her parents found her, then they would steer her clear of this place for all her life. He hadn't gone through all of this just to lose his son in the last steps! He had to stop David and Snow from leaving to find their daughter, or else everything might be off track forever. That was how he fixed things.

But the Seer was silent. His head was quiet. No magic. If they were back home, then he could solve all of this with a wave of his hand by simply locking the pair away somewhere. But he didn't have magic. Not here, not now. In order to get magic, he needed Emma to slay Maleficent and retrieve his egg with the potion in it! Or…

His eyes roamed over the back of his shop and stopped at the black bag haphazardly shoved into the corner. He needed magic…and he had it. He wasn't magical now, and he couldn't do big magic because of the Curse, but maybe this didn't need big magic. He pushed himself up off the cot and grabbed the bag. A doctor's bag, Gold told him. The pawnshop owner always believed it was filled with old fashioned "potions" to cure ancient ailments. But now that he had his memories, he knew what it was. It was the bag he'd packed before he'd been imprisoned in the Enchanted Forest. The potions weren't "witchcraft," as this world might call them. They were genuine magic. He'd always had a deep desire to craft them before he'd arrived…was it the Seer's doing? Had she known this day would come?

Of course, she had. She knew everything that would happen. There was an answer here somewhere. It was just a matter of coming up with the right potion to fix it. There wasn't magic in this realm, but he could feel it in this town; it was what was holding the Curse together. A big potion or spell or even curse and the Dark Curse might grab a hold of the massive amount of magic and use it to fuel itself. With small magic, it might be ignored completely, too small for the Curse to detect or not worth the magic it would take for the Curse to harvest and use it.

There.

His fingers roamed over the tiny bottles before him. With each one, he remembered what he'd created, what lay within the bottles. He found one in particular that made his heart jump.

Memory Potion.

Before that potion, he hadn't had a single thought about how he was going to fix all this, but now…now he did. Snow and David were awake eighteen years too early. There were still eighteen years until Emma arrived. They were ready to go now. He couldn't think of any decisive way to keep them from going and to keep them off of Regina's radar for eighteen years…unless he reversed this. They were awake…so he'd put them back under. All of them, himself included. That would eliminate their memories of the last few hours, since they'd woken up. Without their memories of who they were, without memories of flowers or Emma's name, they'd all be back in their cursed states. It was perfect! It was genius! It was…

Fuck.

It wouldn't work. The memory potion might work for himself and Mary Margaret, but there was a significant problem with it when it came to David. He hadn't been living a life here, he'd been in a coma. He'd been strapped to a bed with wires and tubes sticking out of him. He could strip his memories, but he wasn't sure David even had memories to begin with. If the flower had simply wakened him, he would have been in the hospital right now telling them to call his wife Kathryn…or at least he supposed. He couldn't be sure. And that was enough to force him to place the memory potion back into his bag. "Supposed" and "Couldn't be sure" were not acceptable when it came to finding Baelfire. He had to have something that he knew would work. And even if the memory potion did manage to erase this morning from everyone's minds, he knew it wouldn't put David back into his coma. And having David and Mary Margaret out and walking around among each other for the next two decades wasn't an option. It was too risky that they might find each other, and something like this might happen again.

But now that he was thinking it through and looking through his stores, he did have another idea. It wasn't a single potion but two—a very simple Magic Cleansing Potion and a powerful Light Magic Suppressant. The former was worth nothing next to the latter, neither in value or ability. But the Light Magic Suppressant was a different tale. He'd invested a lot of time and magic into that potion. Once upon a time, he'd had plans to use it on the Blue Fairy. Because of her magic, that witch would be exceptionally difficult to kill or even wound unless he suppressed her magic. In the back of his mind he'd always figured he'd do it after he got Baelfire back. He'd let her be around just long enough to see him succeed and then kill her after they had magic, of course. There were special tools that could do the job but he'd never come across any, so he'd made the potion. It wasn't easy to make, a once in a lifetime kind of potion, even for the Dark One. It would take decades to brew it again. But for Bae…he'd use the potion.

The Blue Fairy was a thorn in his side, but after the Curse was broken, when it was meant to be broken, it wasn't as if he was planning on staying. Where he and Bae would go…

That was a question for a later time. Gingerly he retrieved the two potions and mixed them into a single container. He was about to move onto his next question when he pulled out a second empty vial and poured some of the potion into it. Not one for each. One for them. One for himself. The potion would be weaker here than it was there, but combined with the cleansing potion it would be enough to rid the couple of any remaining fairy dust, then suppress any Light Magic working within them for long enough that the Dark Curse around them would overcome them. David would go back to his previous state, Mary Margaret would forget, and he…

Later.

David had been gone from his shop for a long time. The couple was determined to get together and leave; he had to find them before he lost them and convince them to put themselves under again. The real question now that he knew how to do it was where to find them and how to get them to take it willingly. David had taken off without a word, he didn't know where to. But he had a potion for that, one that was weak enough to avoid the Dark Curse's detection and strong enough to find them.

A Locator Potion. A very potent one indeed, which was necessary for using it during the Curse. And as for what to use it on…he had everything he needed right here. He gathered his cane in his hand and quickly went out into the main room, the room that he knew a very precious object was waiting for him in one of his glass cases. The former Queen's necklace…and he meant that in more ways than one. He'd taken this necklace off of Snow White back in the Enchanted Forest, a payment for "wasting his time". She'd fought him on it, saying it used to belong to her mother, but he'd taken it anyway. And a good thing too. It was about to come in handy.

He plucked it out of its case and tore the tag that read "$500" off of it as he hobbled into the back. He laid it out on the table and then retrieved his Locator Potion. He uncorked it and just before he poured it over the necklace he thought twice about that choice and instead retrieved an eyedropper. Better safe than sorry. One drop, two drops, three drops, then four…after a bit of hesitation he added a fifth just in case. He held his breath as he watched it. He drummed his fingers impatiently against the table.

"Come on…" he hissed.

Locator Potions always took a while to work, the magic had to identify the owner of the object, find them in the great wide world, and only then would they rise into the air and work. They took a while to work…but it shouldn't have taken this long.

"Damn it!" he growled. It wasn't enough. The Locator Potion didn't have enough magic to activate, or if it had, the Curse had drained its magic long ago. He had to think. He had to focus! He couldn't just give up now and hope for the best he had to go out there and find them but he couldn't spend his time in the car crisscrossing Storybrooke hoping to find the pair. The town was larger than it seemed. There could be any number of places the royal couple was hiding. He couldn't send his flunkies out after them. He would need a picture of David that he didn't possess or need them to know Mary Margaret well enough to track her down. Dove was good, but he wasn't that good. He needed something more! He needed…

More magic.

When he shifted his weight, something winked at him from inside his black bag—two spools of golden thread. Mr. Gold thought they were just part of the ancient medical kit, gold wiring to suture incisions or cuts. He'd had no idea that this gold thread was actually spun from wool and wasn't wiring, but pure magic.

It was worth a shot.

Without hesitation, he pulled the spool free and cut several long strands off, enough to stick into the jar of Locator potion. He retrieved aqua regis, a special mix of acids from across the room. Rumpelstiltskin never knew what to do with it, but he did. He carefully placed a few drops of the acid at the top of the golden threads with another eyedropper. They sizzled and smoked as they traveled down their perspective strands, destroying the gold and, he hoped, releasing the magic into the bottom of the container. The threads shriveled and blackened under the acid and once more he watched it carefully, waiting and watching for something, anything to show him-

Something like that!

It was small, but the liquid at the bottom of the tiny vial flashed green. That was a magical reaction, not a chemical one. Stopper in place, he shook the potion vigorously for ten seconds, aware as he did of the small flashes of green light. Then they tried again.

One drop, two drops, three drops, then four drops, and a fifth just to be on the safe side. He corked the potion, placed it back in its bag, and watched the necklace with bated breath, unsure what he could do if it failed this time around.

He was just about to give up on it when the necklace rose up off the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is something that I added into the 6x17 chapters as a necessity because otherwise, there were a lot of things that just didn't make sense here. For starters, I wanted to show Rumple using magic during the time of the Curse. I did this mostly because I wanted to establish how Regina does it while the Curse is still in operation. I wanted it to be clear that there is magic in this town, all around them, the entire thing is made of magic, but it's so busy holding the Curse together that it doesn't really have the capacity to work in any other way unless it's something big, which will be made weaker as the Curse leeches off it's magic (think Jefferson's hat), or something small, which the Curse will either not recognize or register as something that would take too much power to leech and therefore isn't worth it (think the locator spell). It's sketchy, but A&E didn't give you an explanation, so this is my theory. Second, A&E also didn't give you an explanation for how Rumple knew to find Snow and David out in, what was at this time, a random rundown farmhouse, on the outskirts of town. They also didn't explain how Rumple had a potion to put them under "just right" so that Snow and David would remember these events later but essentially lose their memory in this moment. It couldn't be something that was prepared ahead of time because otherwise when David stumbles in Rumple could have just said "oh, so this is that time that I prepared for, hey David, come take a drink of this." This chapter had to answer all those questions. It might be more of a reflective chapter, something reminiscent of Research!Belle (though I guess we could start using Research!Rumple at this point), but it works. It serves its purpose. What do you think?
> 
> Thank you, RolfB, for your beautiful comments! I'm so glad that you are enjoying this fiction so far! I'm happy that you are content with what I've worked up for this time that we really don't know too much about, and I hope that as we move forward, you'll continue to find it acceptable. Peace and Happy Reading!


	6. Parents

The magic in Snow's necklace was working, but there was a problem. As far as the rest of Storybrooke was concerned, magic was a fairy tale…at least for now. Still, it meant that he couldn't very well open the door and let the magical flying necklace out into the World Without Magic. Regina was out there, he didn't know how much of this she was aware of, but he wanted to remain as anonymous in the situation as possible. So he pocketed the necklace, locked the shop, and hobbled into his car.

His car. The car he knew how to drive despite never being taught.

The Dark Curse was so much more amazing than he'd ever imagined.

But he couldn't allow himself to be distracted.

As he turned the key, he let the necklace out of his pocket. It floated up into the air and knocked against his back window. It wasn't ideal, but at least it would be contained and not as obvious to those he drove by. He drove off the lot angling his car to face whatever direction the necklace wanted to go was a challenge, especially once the necklace led him out of the main town. He was nervous. They were close to the town line, and it only made him feel like he was running out of time. And then, just before he could get on the road out of town, the necklace turned back into the forest. It was something of a relief, but not by much. Snow and David weren't playing around. If they could get the magic in that flower to work, to form a portal to their daughter, they'd be gone in a heartbeat.

This was going to be difficult. Finding them was only half of the fight. After he found them, he had to convince them to take the potion. If they were back in the Enchanted Forest, he could overpower them or erase their memories, but he didn't have those abilities here. He'd have to get them to take the potion willingly. He tried to control his breathing as he drove on. He knew Snow White and Prince Charming well. He'd watched them both nearly their entire lives. He knew how to make deals with them. He'd make them see, leave them with a very clear choice. They could be heroes, or they could help Regina and actively participate in leaving the town, and all their friends, trapped in a terrible curse for the rest of eternity. He couldn't force them to do anything; he just had to trust it would be as it was supposed to be.

The Locator Potion led him to a farmhouse just on the edge of town. Mr. Gold knew that no one lived there or had for years. Oh, he hated not having magic. The Seer, in the back of his head, he could feel her there, taking up space, but he couldn't hear what she was trying to say, what she wanted to warn him about! He couldn't even make out the voices of the Dark Ones; they were but shadows to him now. And the voices. It was like they were trying to call to him through a thick sheet of ice. He could feel them and their desire to scream…but he heard nothing but white noise. Still, the Locator Potion indicated the royal couple he sought was close. Warning or not, he couldn't lose this opportunity.

So he got out of the car, checked the jewel in his hand, and went in the back door. If the voices he heard coming from the front room were any indication, he'd come just in time.

"Regina's onto us. It won't be long before she finds out," Snow was muttering quickly.

"Did you bring it?" David asked. There was a pause and some heavy breathing before he heard David continue. "Rumple said its magic is strong enough to lead us to Emma."

"Let's go find our daughter," Snow whispered. Just in time, as he'd feared…

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that," he explained, sauntering into the room.

The couple looked shocked to see him. Their hands were joined, and in David's other hand, he held a flower that he recognized all too easily. It was the pixie. That was the source of trouble. He hoped that whatever had occurred to make it grow didn't happen again. They couldn't do this over and over again until the girl came of age. He understood that. But now he had to explain it to her parents. He doubted they'd take it as well.

"It appears we've only been cursed for ten years. She's still years shy of her 28th birthday, the day she's destined to become the Savior."

"No, she doesn't have to be the Savior anymore. We're awake," Snow argued.

"Well, Snow White and Prince Charming may be awake, but the rest of this town is very much asleep. Find Emma now, and she will never fulfill her destiny, the Curse will never be broken, and everyone will be trapped here forever."

"What do you expect us to do...just leave her out there?"

He took a breath and reached into his pocket. "Drink this, like I'm going to," he explained. "It'll put you back under, and then, when the time is right, Emma will find us."

"That's easy for you to say. You don't have a child who's out there by herself."

"You have no idea what's out there for me," he growled. If he had his magic, he would have choked him to get his point across or even make him back up. David stepped up to him so close that they were nearly toe to toe. "You can't stop us. You don't have magic in this world. Here, you're just a man," he proclaimed.

"I don't need magic to stop you," he commented as David moved around him. And he hoped those words were true. He couldn't appear to be an antagonist to them now. He had to be a friend, someone who appealed to their lighter side. David was hot-headed and always would be. But his wife, the lovely Snow White…there were tears gathering in her eyes at this moment. She was the weaker of the two. She'd understand. She'd sent their daughter here to save everyone…they'd already done what he was asking them to do once. They could do it again. David would just need the convincing of his wife. His potion was going to make it easier. For all of them.

"You see," he muttered, stepping up to Snow. Was she the weaker of the two…or was she the stronger? This would give him that answer. "This potion...is the only way forward…for everyone. That flower in your hand, the dust will open a portal. It'll allow you to see your daughter and get to her if you choose. You and your husband and your daughter, you will live happily ever after. But the rest of us, everyone else in this town…we'll all be doomed. No happy endings. Just the same day over and over again, just as it's been for the last ten years."

Snow's face was iron, a mixture of every possible emotion frozen on her face. The eyes were angry but also still wet with tears. Her mouth was puckered with frustration, but the corners were turned down in sorrow. And her breathing...it was calm, but too even to suggest true peace; it was as if she were counting her breaths out. Oh, she wanted to say something to him, but she didn't know what. She was conflicted to the very marrow of her bones. A seed was planted. With her, that was all it would take.

He heard heavy footfalls on the floor behind him, and suddenly he felt David over his shoulder. "And who's to say you don't deserve that?" he asked. "Everything you've done, who's to say you don't deserve to stay in this town and rot?!"

"Perhaps I do," he answered, keeping his gaze firmly on Snow White. "But you can't say the same about your friend Red, or her dear old Granny. You can't say the same thing about the dwarves you've known and loved so well."

"We'll come back for them."

"For everyone? All the children in your classes, the mechanic, your next-door neighbor? Or just your friends. Even if you did, they don't even know who or what they are right now. Only that something is missing and they can't find it. Taking them out of town won't change that. Only a Savior will. The only one with the power to stop it is Emma."

"We'll bring her ourselves." Suddenly David moved around him and pushed himself between him and Snow, breaking their contact. It didn't matter. Before he'd been shoved aside, he'd seen her face. It was already done. "Snow, we can bring her back ourselves when the time is right. We can come when she turns twenty-eight."

"Are you sure about that?" he interjected before Snow could reply. "You've been asleep for the last ten years. You know nothing of this world or how difficult it is for young people to take vacations and get away from their lives. Who's to say she'll want to come? Or that she'll stay once she's here? Or that she'll be strong enough? It's a difficult path she has to trod ahead of her and a delicate one. But Emma is our best chance and her best chance at besting Regina…it's not with the two of you."

David whipped around so quickly that he had to bite his cheek to keep from reacting. "That's enough! We know what's best for our daughter! She needs her parents. And now we're leaving. Snow, let's go." He grabbed his wife's hand and pulled her around him so that they only locked eyes one more time for a brief second. His heart raced as David pulled her away. The potion was still in his hand.

"You're not leaving with something that belongs to me, dearie!" he called after him.

"What?!" David inquired, pausing in the doorframe.

"That sword."

"What about it, it's mine?!"

"In another world, maybe. But in this world, I have the paperwork that says it belongs to me. I have the appraisal for what it's worth and the bills from the insurance company. That's a lot of money there. I'm sure Mary Margaret would be happy to explain what happens to people in this world who steal such precious objects. I'm sure she'd also be happy to explain my reputation for protecting what's mine."

"David…" Snow breathed, tugging on his arm. "He's right. It's not worth it."

"Here…an exchange, not that I'm owed one as it belongs to me, but I'm willing. The sword for this potion…do we have a deal?"

David squared his eyes at him, and his nostrils flared in anger. He didn't mind. It wasn't really him he was making this deal with. It was his wife.

"David, let's just…let's just take it and leave. We can toss it in the flower bed on the way out," she sighed. Then she stepped forward in an attempt to take the potion from him, but he quickly pulled it away.

"The sword…" Snow White turned around to look at her husband, and after a few seconds of staring at one another, he tossed it onto the floor with a huff. "Excellent choice. Just remember…do this my way, and you may wait a while longer to see your daughter, but the town will be saved, and Emma will fulfill her destiny."

Snow made another reach for it, but he pulled it away again and took her hand in his own.

"Do this your way, and…well…let's just say…it would be an awful thing to deprive a Savior the opportunity to save," he muttered, placing the bottle in her hands and folding her fingers around it. They locked eyes for a second longer, then David grabbed her hand, pulled her free, and the pair wandered out through another door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had some fun goals that it had to accomplish. First, I had to get Rumple into the scene, which was a task all on its own. We talked about the Locator Potion in the last chapter, but I couldn't very well have him walking down the street with it. The car was the best solution I had. Then I had to get him into the room. This is what irritates me about these later seasons. A&E start going for shock value rather than logical thinking. Which, in their own defense, works fine when their characters have magic at their fingertips. But here...tell me, Rumple has no magic, Snow is keeping watch for David at the front window, the house is in the middle of nowhere with one road in...how in the hell does Rumple manage to sneak up on them? Am I supposed to believe he hiked through the woods? With a bad ankle? In the end, there was one small moment where David comes into the house and has a conversation with Snow that draws her away from the window, and I decided that must have been where Rumple pulled up. It was luck. But still...it was a stupid thing to fret over. Oh, and then, of course, I had to get the sword back. We didn't see David turn it over to Gold in this episode, but when he goes out into the woods, he doesn't have it with him anymore. And we know later that the sword is, in fact, in Gold's shop waiting for Emma. I couldn't see Regina returning it. And we also never really saw Snowing take the potion, so...I worked with what I had on this chapter. There were many little holes that needed to be filled in, but I promise I gave it my best shot. Hopefully, you'll agree.
> 
> Thank you, RolfB, for your comments on the last chapter! They are very much appreciated! I hope you won't mind this one. Despite the holes, I think it actually turned out sort of well, at least. But the next chapter...the next chapter really made up for that. I had a lot of fun with the next chapter, and I can't wait for you to read it. So without further ado...let's continue on! Peace and Happy Reading!


	7. Games

He took the sword back to his shop. He put it into a nice case, something to assure it couldn't be so easily stolen again, and then he sat in the back and waited. He waited, and he stared. He waited, and he pulled out the potion he'd mixed for himself. He waited and pondered whether or not he should take it. He waited and concluded that whether or not he should take it depended on what happened next.

He wasn't magical here, he couldn't use a mirror or a cauldron to see what was happening, and he couldn't use a crystal ball to see what had happened, and he couldn't use the Seer to see what would happen. Here, he had to use his own intellect. He had to go with what he knew. With Snow White and David awake, the future was uncertain. Until he was certain this problem was fixed, he couldn't put himself under again. And he was confident that he would know when and if it was.

Regina. She was paranoid. He'd heard Snow say that she was on to them in the forest. If they got away or took the potion and stayed, he felt certain that she'd come to him either way. There was no need to watch the news for answers; she'd bring it right to him. He was confident…but that didn't mean that waiting for that moment was any better. By the time he finally heard the bell to his store chime, he was ready to jump out of his own skin. He wanted to sigh with relief when he saw it was Regina, but instead, he kept a straight face. He didn't want her to know that he was awake. For this encounter, he had to be sure he wore the mask of Mr. Gold and not Rumpelstiltskin.

"Well…I thought you'd at least have the sense to hide out in your cabin."

"Excuse me?" he asked innocently enough. Fortunately, he'd played Mr. Gold for so long it barely took a thought to summon him forth.

"Don't play dumb with me!" Regina yelled, striding toward him. "You know everything about this town, cursed or not, and I refuse to believe you haven't a clue what's been going on today! This sort of thing reeks of you!"

"Madam Mayor…" he chuckled to himself. "I'm flattered you think so highly of me, but considering my work here, I think you'll find I'm quite ignorant of whatever event you are speaking of. Tell me…what have I missed?"

She stared him down, her eyes looking for a lie, but he was older than her and had been lying since before she was born. She'd find nothing in his stare. "A John Doe escaped from the hospital this morning," she spat out quickly. "He'd been in a coma for as long as the doctors can remember. We've been searching for him all day!"

"Well, that is a lovely story of recovery, but it seems to me that he might be in search of his family and not a pawnbroker. I do hope you find him, though."

"We have," she answered. "Mary Margaret located him in the woods. By then, he'd fallen back into a coma. We only just barely got him back to the hospital in time to save his life."

His heartbeat raced. Found in the woods…they hadn't gone through with it. They were still here, David was still in a coma and Snow…Mary Margaret...

"Ah…then it seems to me you should be speaking to his doctors or better yet Ms. Blanchard to see if he revealed a name before she found him."

"Enough with the lies!" Regina yelled, fumbling for something in her pocket. She stepped up close to show it to him. It was a vial. It was _the_ vial! It was the vial he'd put the potion into. It was empty. Snow and David had taken it. All was as it should be…nearly.

"That's mine!" he breathed, faking surprise as he plucked it from her fingers. "That's part of my collection, but it's been in the back. It's not for sale until I can have it cleaned. How did you get it?"

Regina scoffed. "Like you don't know."

He didn't have to play the part, something deep in his chest, Mr. Gold, he suspected, didn't like the disrespect she was showing. It was easy enough to work with.

"Madam Mayor, I assure you this vial is part of my alchemical collection from the 1560s. It's worth…hundreds of dollars, even without the rest of the collection. I wouldn't let it out of my sight."

"Then how did it end up outside, today, of all days."

"I have no idea. I was here all day."

"All day."

"Except…"

"Except?"

"When I left for lunch."

Regina smiled like a cat who had just captured a very tasty mouse. "Granny's was closed today," she pointed out. "Everyone was searching, including her."

"Which is why I had to eat lunch at home," he explained easily. "I wasn't sure why she was closed, so I just went home, made myself a sandwich, spent perhaps a bit too much time reading the paper. He must have stopped in then."

She crossed her arms in front of her in frustration. That was good. When she'd first walked in here, she was convinced he had his memories, and now she was starting to doubt herself. It was all a lie, but lying was second nature not only to him...but to Gold as well. Mr. Gold knew as well as he did that the best way to get away with a lie was to be confident in it, to believe the lie was the truth. He really was himself and Gold. How fortunate and startling all at once.

"Did you forget to lock your shop?" Regina questioned, trying to find holes in his story. There would be none.

"I never forget to lock the shop."

"Did your shop appear broken into?"

"Not to my eyes, but then, I'm not a detective, Regina. We'd need your bedmate for that."

"What are you talking about?" Her arms fell, and her face dropped at that particular comment. That was exactly what he'd wanted to happen.

"I think we both know what I'm talking about, Regina. You and your sheriff...quite the lone wolf that one, I doubt he'll ever really settle down."

He smiled as Regina watched him carefully. Now that she was starting to believe him, he had to admit he'd thrown that quip about him being a lone wolf in just for the fun of it. And he was about to have some more. There was no magic in this world for him to use, not on his own. But Storybrooke was a town made of magic that had been carefully woven together like firm strands of thread into fabric long before they'd arrived. That's why he was so certain what he was about to say would work, even if he didn't have his powers at the moment.

"Now, the day's nearly done, and I have work to do," he explained, pocketing the vial. "So if there's nothing else you have to report to me, Madam Mayor, then you'll excuse me…please."

He smirked perhaps a little bit more than he wanted to on that, but it was impossible not to as Regina's eyes went round as saucers, and she looked like she'd been slapped. He liked this. He enjoyed this game of keeping her in a state of confusion over what he knew and didn't know. But sadly, as she turned on her heel and left, he acknowledged that it was the last time he'd play the game for a while.

Things were as they should be. He'd been holding off on taking that potion for himself until he knew for certain they were right. Now he knew. And yes, he could stay awake as he was now. He could continue to keep Regina in a constant state of "is he or isn't he"…but eighteen years was an awfully long time to wait, an awfully long time to play a game that would only be mildly interesting. Years ago, he'd seen what happened as Regina cracked. The only one in the town with memories made it a prison. Having false memories, being under the Curse…it was easy compared to that. It really was just like living in a dream. It was lonely, the world always would be without Belle or Baelfire, but he'd rather live the next eighteen years of his life in a lonely dream than counting down the days until Emma's birthday. He'd rather grow angry and irate every day at the sight of the broken down library across the street than be reminded of Belle when he looked at it. He'd rather Baelfire's old ball just be a ball rather than a memory of his son.

There was no question in his mind. He was going to put himself under again. And in eighteen years, he'd wake up, and he'd meet the Savior, get her to break the Curse, and play the game with Regina all over again. But until then…

He put the empty vial back in his black bag and put it away, as it had been, then he wandered back out to the place he'd been when David burst in…no, he couldn't do it this way. David had burst in nearly first thing that morning. It was afternoon now. What would Gold think when so much time had passed? It wouldn't be the first time Mr. Gold had worked through lunch, but the missing hours were too much. He sighed as he got down onto the floor. He had memories of David with the sword. Now the sword was in a different place. He'd let Mr. Gold think that he'd been assaulted and knocked out and was only just now waking up; ironic when he was about to go to sleep and re-enter the dream. He only hoped that Gold did nothing to make Regina even more suspicious of what had happened today.

Laying on the floor, he gripped the potion tight, summoned up images of Belle and Bae, his two favorite people in the world, then closed his eyes and swallowed the potion. His last act was to toss the vial far away from him so that Mr. Gold would never suspect-

_Something shattered far away. He was on the floor, laying on his left side, his cane still in his hand. How had he gotten to the floor? He sat up slowly and looked around. His eyes landed on the windows, the shadows outside…that wasn't the way it had looked before…before…_

_His last memory was the man he had told to get out of his shop, heading for the door. He must have gone, but…he'd grabbed a sword and…_

_His eyes went to the umbrella stand. No sword. No strange man. He must have…he must have come after him. The man had been angry or frustrated; it was hard to remember. But he'd been crazy; he remembered that much. After he turned to leave…they must have had some kind of altercation. Maybe he'd hit him? He didn't feel sore anywhere, but he preferred to think that over the scenario where he fainted like some kind of damsel. If he'd hit him, it would have knocked him out for several hours; that would have been why the shadows resembled later afternoon rather than early morning._

_He listened carefully, suddenly wondering if the man could be in the back. Perhaps that was the sound of glass breaking he'd heard. But there were no sounds from anywhere. He was alone. Truly alone. He used his cane to get to his feet and shuffled into the back to find what had fallen and broken. He had to call the police and report an incident; the sooner, the better._

_He had work to do._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. So much fun. Mostly because it was a scene we'd never seen before but one I couldn't imagine not happening. I figured that Regina would go to Rumple at the end of all this because that's what she does. She always goes to see Rumple when things are suspicious or not going her way. And, for this matter, I couldn't see Rumple surrendering so early that he wouldn't be awake to face her, and that showdown was just so much fun to write! Plus, for some strange reason, I really enjoyed writing Rumple as being super concerned about how he went back under and what Gold would think and do...that seemed like something our man would do. But then, because I don't always like things being tied up in a pretty bow, I made his reentrance a bit sloppy. He can hear the glass vial he's tossed away breaking, the sword is gone, he's got it in his head to call the sheriff, which might very well raise Regina's suspicions, but it's too late even if it does. Besides, either way, he wins. Eighteen years is a long time for Regina to wonder if Gold was Gold or if she'd just had a conversation with her old mentor and never knew. It'll also serve to make her more paranoid in the future.
> 
> Thank you, RolfB, for your comments on the last chapter! I'm so very, very pleased you enjoyed it, and oh so worried now about this chapter. As much as I loved writing this chapter, I'm very aware that it leads us to a very controversial part of OUAT, which is why A&E never gave us a scene like this. Did Rumple really take the potion? Or did he keep his memories for the rest of the Curse? Obviously, this reveals my opinion of that. I think he did take it, just because I think if he had to go through the next eighteen years waiting, then there would be no reason to be awake. I think he'd want to make himself numb, to just go through the years blind rather than feeling all of it every single day just for the sake of making Regina miserable. Besides, I think he's smart enough to know that not doing it is just as risky as doing it. Eighteen years is a long time to have to pretend to be someone else, and while eighteen years is nothing to our Rumple and I do trust he could do it, why willingly live with that every day when there is no point or purpose to it. For all those reasons, I think he certainly put himself back under. Peace and Happy Reading!


	8. Unexpecting

_It was 2001. He'd owned the shop now for so long he couldn't remember how long he'd been doing this same routine. Each morning he woke up, stretched, and got into the shower. He dressed in a suit, adding layer after layer to make any who felt the need to deal with him feel underdressed. That was a trick he'd learned as a lawyer. In the morning, he read the newspaper, cooked himself some breakfast, just a piece of toast today, with jam on the side. He drove to town and parked his car in the lot or on the street. He didn't live far from work, but he wasn't about to walk there. With his leg, he'd never manage, and besides, walking might give the impression he cared about something. He walked down the street every morning. Sometimes people lifted their eyes to him in acknowledgment. He never returned the favor. He barely paid any attention to Marco on the ladder as he walked swiftly by him._

_As he unlocked the door to his shop, he glanced at the abandoned library on the corner across from him. It always made him feel uneasy, probably because it was becoming an eyesore. One of these days, he would file a complaint with Regina about that, but today there was too much to do._

_Inside the shop, he opened the blinds and took a deep breath of the musty smell that came with age. It still felt like home, probably more like home than his pink house, which he still needed to get painted. He turned the sign behind him to "open" in case someone felt like coming in to make a deal but then escaped to the back room just like always. It was his favorite place in his shop. The spinning wheel he'd first seen when he bought the place was back here, along with a fold-away cot for nights he got carried away and just decided to sleep there. There were two tables crowded into the back that he could use to polish or repair or clean or whatever he needed to do. On the table, there was usually something old he'd set out the day before, waiting for him to appraise or repair or clean, but today his task was a bit different. He was in the pawnshop, as he usually was, but today he wasn't playing the role of a pawnbroker, not unless someone came in to buy something. No, today he was wearing the hat of "lawyer." Yesterday, he'd received a call from the grandfather of the baby Ashley Boyd was carrying. He'd asked him how far along he was in the process of getting the child placed._

_He knew the girl wasn't thrilled with the idea of adoption. He knew that she'd signed the papers mostly out of pressure from the baby's grandfather and her own step-mother, but a deal was a deal; and where the law was concerned a signature was legally binding. Besides, knowing the history Miss Boyle shared with her step-family, the only family she had left in this world, and the eagerness in the grandfather's voice to see the child gone, giving the infant away when it was born was really going to be the best thing for all parties included, at least as far as he was concerned._

_But he'd had the disappointing job of telling the grandfather yesterday that so far, no one had called to adopt. He had made the proper calls what felt like eons ago when the girl must have only just found out she was pregnant, he'd filled out all the paperwork, faxed the appropriate individuals, and yet…nothing. And that was a problem. The poor girl looked as though she might go into labor any day now, and he'd much rather the babe had a place to go to immediately rather than wait in the hell of foster care. In truth, he'd decided long ago it would be best to call his contacts to see if he could speed things along, but whenever he had the idea, something always seemed to come up that prevented him from doing the job. But not today._

_Today the first thing he did was pull the adoption papers out of his safe. Today the first thing on his "to do" list was to study up on the details again to make informed calls. Today he was going to make those calls no matter what._

_It was just another day in Storybrooke-_

_And it seemed the universe did not want him to make those calls._

_It was mid-morning, he was looking over the adoption contract and refamiliarizing himself with the important details when the bell on his shop door let him know someone had arrived and he looked up to find none other than Regina Mills, known to him as Madam Mayor striding toward him. She was young, but she'd been the Mayor here as long as he could remember. Their relationship was a complex one. As the owner of the land she ran, he had a certain amount of power in the town that she was rather jealous of. Much of their contract said that she needed to come to him to approve anything that she wanted to present for a vote. It was his land, and he got the first say. He supposed that made him the most powerful man in town despite her election. They were cordial when they had to be, but there was always tension underneath their politically motivated politeness._

_"I need a child, Gold, and I need your help."_

_He snorted._ That _was not the kind of tension he'd sensed between them. But it was one hell of a request to start his day with. If he had friends, it would've made quite the story._

_"Well, I'm flattered but uninterested."_

_"Not like that. I spent all morning talking to adoption agencies. The waitlists are over two years long. But you, Gold, you know how to cut through red tape. And if anyone can work the system and find me a baby, it's you."_

_Regina…a mother. And on the same day he'd meant to call the agencies? Was he hearing her right?_

_"You wish to adopt?"_

_"Well, don't look so surprised."_

_"Oh, I'm not!" he insisted, looking her over. He'd known Regina for years, and he knew the way she thought and the way she worked. He knew that over the years of her being the Mayor, she'd been restless. She had her sheriff, but he wasn't the settling down type. He was a lone wolf. Men like him liked a good night of romping then the ability to return to the cave they called home and have a beer in silence. That was fine, he wasn't far off from one of those men, but Regina was. She needed something to settle her and yet something she could rule over. Marriage wouldn't suit her, but parenthood might. For the child however…he already felt sorry for whoever he found. "I'm sure you'll make a...well, a mother of some sort."_

_"Can you help me?"_

_"Of course I can, but a word of caution," he warned. If Regina wanted a child, he had no doubt he could procure one for her in less than two years. Hell, he could do it in less than a month if Ashley went into labor soon. But he did feel sorry for the child who would call her "mother," especially given his own parent's history. While it would be fun to watch Regina, he wanted no guilt in the situation that would follow. "Ask yourself if this is something you're ready for."_

_"It's something I need."_

_That was what he was afraid of. "Well, that may not be the same thing. I'll get you a child."_

_Regina sighed and turned on her heel, prepared to leave. Just like the way his father had left before he'd never seen him again._

_"But whether or not that's helping you remains to be seen," he called after her._

_Regina turned, the vein in her head throbbing, her nostrils flaring. She was ready to put this aside. He was not._

_"When you become a parent, you must put your child first. No matter what."_

_"Find me a child, and I'll show you I can," she snapped at him._

_"As you wish." He nodded, but her tone had already told him all he needed to know about the situation. Still, he'd warned her. The guilt would not be his, and he had no doubt that at least the child, whoever he or she was, would be well cared for. It was a shame the grandparents wanted a closed adoption for Ashley's baby and the infant to be sent out of state…otherwise, it might have been the answer to his prayers, if he believed in such a thing._

_"Oh, and Madam Mayor, he called out before she could leave the shop. I hope you won't be using taxpayer dollars to pay for my services. Cutting through all that 'red tape' can be rather pricy. You get what you pay for with me, and nothing is ever free."_

_She rolled her eyes. "No one knows better than me, Mr. Gold, trust me. So why don't you let me worry about taxpayer dollars…you have work to do."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're on to the last bit of this ficlet with a familiar episode-3x09. As previously stated, there were really only two major episodes that contributed to this ficlet; everything else was sort of a "one-shot" that just filled in some blanks. But this episode, Gold has work to do. Even if it is Regina-centric and he's just playing a supporting role, there was busyness to be done, and I enjoyed working with it. The only downside, I wished there was a bit more wiggle room with some of these scenes, but sadly when Regina and Gold were in the room together, we often saw her enter and often saw her leave. I did manage to sneak that last little bit into this one, though.
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you, RolfB, for your comments on the previous chapter! I'm so glad that you enjoyed it! Now, sit back, relax, and let's meet the boy who makes this series possible, shall we? Peace and Happy Reading!


	9. Fate

_It was 2001. He'd owned the shop now for so long he couldn't remember how long he'd been doing this same routine. Each morning he woke up, stretched, and got into the shower. He dressed in a suit, adding layer after layer to make any who felt the need to deal with him feel underdressed. That was a trick he'd learned as a lawyer. In the morning, he read the newspaper, cooked himself some breakfast, eggs usually, with spinach if he had it. He drove to town and parked his car in the lot or on the street. He didn't live far from work, but he wasn't about to walk there. With his leg, he'd never manage, and besides, walking might give the impression he cared about something. He walked down the street every morning. Sometimes people lifted their eyes to him in acknowledgment. He never returned the favor. He barely paid any attention to Marco on the ladder as he walked swiftly by him._

_As he unlocked the door to his shop, he glanced at the abandoned library on the corner across from him. It always made him feel uneasy, probably because it was becoming an eyesore. One of these days, he would file a complaint with Regina about that, but today there was too much to do._

_Inside the shop, he opened the blinds and took a deep breath of the musty smell that came with age. It still felt like home, probably more like home than his pink house, which he still needed to get painted. He turned the sign behind him to "open" in case someone felt like coming in to make a deal but then escaped to the back room just like always. It was his favorite place in his shop. The spinning wheel he'd first seen when he bought the place was back here, along with a fold-away cot for nights he got carried away and just decided to sleep there. There were two tables crowded into the back that he could use to polish or repair or clean or whatever he needed to do. On the table was an old marble chess set he'd just acquired as collateral for a large loan. Seeing as how the loan was due in two days, he felt confident that the set was about to become his own. It would need a good polishing before he was ready to put it up for sale. That was his task for today._

_It was just another day in Storybrooke._

_And then his cell phone rang._

_It was only by chance he'd found a child for Regina. When she'd first wandered in and asked him about finding her one, he'd put his feelers out in all the ordinary places, but at the last minute, something in the back of his mind told him to call one agency in Boston he rarely contacted. It seemed, however, Lady Luck was with him._

_They had a child they were trying to place immediately._

_The baby had been born in Phoenix and flown out to a new family in Boston, he'd lived there with them as a foster child for the first three weeks of his life, but the parents had returned him to the agency just that morning because of sudden financial hardships. Considering the age and circumstances of the child, they wanted to find him a home quickly. Was his client still interested in adopting fast?_

_It seemed like fate. Not just because of the timing or the unexplainable urge he'd had to call that particular agency, but also because of the circumstances surrounding the child's mother. As the man he talked to rambled on, he explained that it would be like coming home in a way, since the child's mother had been found not far from Storybrooke._

_Found…_

_"Found?" he inquired, his mind carefully picking out that little detail. It seemed the sort of thing one might want to know._

_Yes. Found. She was a strange case, it seemed. The mother had been abandoned in the woods when she was only an infant herself, found by a small boy. The child's caseworker explained that he'd been in touch with the Mother's social worker, who informed him that the girl had been trouble from the beginning. She'd been placed in the foster care system and had been in and out since they'd found her running away and starting over several times before being arrested and convicted for possession of stolen goods. She'd spent her entire pregnancy in a minimum-security prison in Phoenix, Arizona. The only time she'd left was when they took her to the hospital to give birth._ _In another couple of weeks, she'd be released. They wanted her child placed by then._

_It was a_ _shame, really. He imagined that if her parents hadn't done such a thing, her life might have been much different. Eighteen years old, she should have been in school, or working, just figuring life out for herself. Instead, the cycle of abandonment had been forced to continue. It was tragic._

_"We'd be happy to surrender the child to your client," the man on the phone explained. "No use in two generations enduring the system when someone is willing to take him. And if the child isn't safe in a home before she's out, who knows what she'll do."_

_He agreed wholeheartedly and gave them the number of the town hall to fax the information and paperwork to him along with a little something else._

_"Tell me, what are the chances I could get my hands on the Mother's records."_

_"Not good," he answered. "She was a minor when she was arrested. It's a sealed juvenile record."_

_"I know, I understand, but as a lawyer, I also know that so often those records…they're handled a bit haphazardly. From one civil servant to another, I just want to be able to reasonably inform my client about what she may have to deal with."_

_On the other end of the phone, the man sighed. "I'll tell you what, I'm not making promises, but in the interests of getting this all taken care of quickly...I'll see what I can get my hands on and send you anything I can dig up when I fax the paperwork over."_

_He thanked the man and then silently thanked him again when he retrieved the fax from the town hall. Included in the file on the baby boy was the information about the Mother. It was sparse, the name appropriately blacked out, so it only allowed relevant information, but the arrest record and page of notes from her social worker told a story. So did the newspaper article that came with it. It was the report of exactly what the caseworker had said. A baby girl had been found in the woods by a boy, unnamed. Both children had been put into social services. It was a difficult life she'd had, no doubt from where she sat in jail now, it was a difficult life she'd continue to have. At least the boy might be slightly better off with Regina, though the more he thought about it, the more he admitted he didn't know which would be better._

_He made the appropriate copies of the paperwork, then tried to drop by to inform Regina of the baby he'd found only to find her office empty. She was in meetings until that afternoon, an assistant informed him. Normally he would have left and let her figure out what she'd missed on her own, but considering the importance of timing on this particular deal, he left a message that he had information on a child and to come see him at once. He'd just barely gotten the chess set out on display when she walked into the shop with a smile on her face._

_"You have news?" she asked excitedly._

_"Yes. Fate may be on your side. This morning, I, uh, spoke with an agency that had placed a baby boy from Phoenix with a family nearby in Boston."_

_"With a family? How's that fate?"_

_"Because at the last minute, the adoption fell through. It happens," he shrugged._

_Regina beamed. "So the baby still needs a home."_

_"Indeed. As they say, fate appears to be on your side." He turned back to the counter, toward the folder that he'd prepared for her after removing the information about the mother from it and storing it for his own records. "The agency is in Boston," Regina took the folder and opened it, smiling as she read. "The agency is reputable, the caseworker seemed eager and excited to close this case, and-"_

_"It's a boy!" Regina smiled so wide he could see her back molars. Figured. He'd arranged too many adoptions to count; details were always important, but all the parents ever seemed to want to know was boy or girl, blonde or brunette, green eyes or blue eyes…so much importance placed on the physical appearance. So far, Regina was like every other parent. But knowing the mayor as personally as he did, he suspected that wouldn't last long._

_"It's a boy," he confirmed. "White, male, average height, average weight, average in just about every way…"_

_"What's his name?" she interrupted._

_"He doesn't have one."_

_Regina turned her nose wrinkled in anger and confusion. "He doesn't have a name?"_

_"It is a bit odd. I understand when the adoption was finalized, his parents were to give him one, but as they didn't adopt him…it'll be up to you to decide who he is. Or you could always ask the caseworker what his previous family called him if you can't think of something-"_

_"No, actually…" Regina closed her eyes and shook her head at the words as if meditating on something strange he'd said. Finally, a smile blossomed over her face again, and she looked up at him happily. "Actually, I have the perfect name in mind! So…what's next? When do I get him?"_

_"I told the caseworker you'd go up to meet him tomorrow to make everything final. He'll walk you through the final stages, of course, as your lawyer, I advise you not to sign anything until I have approved of it."_

_"Tomorrow? Boston is only four hours away! I'll go today! I'll leave right now!"_

_She forgot to say good-bye, merely turned on her heel, and strode quickly out the door so that he was stuck in his shop with his mouth open, ready to say words she'd never hear. Just like most parents, he supposed. There was always so much to do when a baby was coming into the family, and apparently, Regina was about to attempt it by herself and in one day. This would be something fun to sit back and watch._

_"I'll call the caseworker," he muttered to himself in response._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simple chapter, nothing we haven't seen before. In fact, all of these last chapters are something that we've seen before, just with a bit of framing to fill them out a bit. That was always to be expected with this ficlet, short as it is. Only one more chapter and then we're into Breaking the Curse, that's when things get fun!
> 
> Thank you, RolfB and Chibi_Moon, for reading and, of course, for commenting. I'm glad you are enjoying this little trip we've taken into Storybrooke during the Curse. Only two more chapters, and we get to meet that baby abandoned in the woods! Peace and Happy Reading!


	10. Motherhood

_It was 2001. He'd owned the shop now for so long he couldn't remember how long he'd been doing this same routine. Each morning he woke up, stretched, and got into the shower. He dressed in a suit, adding layer after layer to make any who felt the need to deal with him feel underdressed. That was a trick he'd learned as a lawyer. In the morning he read the newspaper, cooked himself some breakfast, just coffee and an English muffin today. He drove to town and parked his car in the lot or on the street. He didn't live far from work, but he wasn't about to walk there. With his leg, he'd never manage and besides, walking might give the impression he cared about something. He walked down the street every morning. Sometimes people lifted their eyes to him in acknowledgment. He never returned the favor. He barely paid any attention to Marco on the ladder as he walked swiftly by him._

_As he unlocked the door to his shop he glanced at the abandoned library on the corner across from him. It always made him feel uneasy, probably because it was becoming an eyesore. One of these days, he would file a complaint with Regina about that, but today there was too much to do._

_Inside the shop he opened the blinds and took a deep breath of the musty smell that came with age. It still felt like home, probably more like home than his pink house, which he still needed to get painted. He turned the sign behind him to "open" in case someone felt like coming in to make a deal, but then escaped to the back room just like always. It was his favorite place in his shop. The spinning wheel he'd first seen when he bought the place was back here, along with a fold-away cot for nights he got carried away and just decided to sleep there. There were two tables crowded into the back that he could use to polish or repair or clean or whatever he needed to do._

_On the table was a tray of fine silver that he'd removed from a glass case the night before. It had begun to look a bit tarnished so he'd set it aside for polishing first thing. Now that he was looking at it, he could name a few other pieces of silver in the shop that could do with a good polish before they started showing their age. Polishing the silver, that was his task for today._

_It was just another day in Storybrooke._

_Until the bell on his shop door chimed that afternoon._

_Two days after he had sent Regina to Boston she charged back into his shop with a baby carrier in one hand. The carrier was making noises like there was a child in it but he was too distracted by the angry look on Regina's face to look down and confirm that it was a child and not a yowling cat. He'd expected Regina to come around for a visit with the boy and thank him, or maybe even pay him, but looking at her now he was doubtful that he'd be getting a hug from her, not that he wanted one._

_"You knew!" she growled striding up to him at the counter._

_"Knew what, exactly?" he asked as she practically dropped the carrier on the floor beside her._

_"The child that you located for me in Phoenix...his mother was found in the woods outside of Storybrooke eighteen years ago!"_

_"What a starling coincidence," he responded with a shrug. It was more or less the same response he'd given to the caseworker he'd spoken to a few days earlier and what he'd chalked the information up to. Why Regina was so passionate about it was beyond him._

_"Eighteen years ago?!" she screamed at him._

_He didn't understand. He barely batted an eye at the information he'd learned! Eighteen years ago…nothing special about eighteen years ago came to mind. But, of course, that was so long ago it was all fuzzy. Why Regina was here and angry over it was a mystery to him. Had she even been Mayor eighteen years ago? She must have been, she'd been in office running unopposed for as long as he could remember._

_"I fear I'm missing the significance," he responded. "You have to forgive me; my memory is not what it used to be."_

_He attempted to walk away but she only followed him, tears gathering in her eyes, furious ones if he had to guess based on her temperament at the moment. "Henry's mother was found as a baby on a very significant day. The day this town...this town..."_

_He shook his head. "This town what?" he pressed. He had better things to do than play twenty questions with Regina. He remembered nothing significant happening in this town eighteen years ago. Storybrooke then was exactly the same as Storybrooke now._

_But suddenly the woman reared back and her eyes went wide. "She's important, isn't she?" she pressed. "This mother."_

_He shook his head again. She sounded like a lunatic, absolutely raving mad. It was a good thing he'd gotten Archie to sign off on her psychological exam long before this otherwise she might not have passed if he'd seen her on a day like today. Was the mother important…that was a ridiculous question._

_"Is she important? I suppose that as much as she gave birth to your son," he suggested as he moved away from her. He'd seen a lot of adoptions, most of them were thankful for birth parents, they expressed gratitude for the special treasures they bestowed upon them. It did not surprise him Regina wasn't one of those people. Still, he expected her to be judgmental, constantly chastising the woman who had handed her child over. She was the kind of woman who would believe with complete certainty that no matter how she raised the boy or what decisions she made for him, she would always be better than the young mother. This was not what he expected. This was fear. This was downright paranoia. This intense focus on this poor girl who had been left by her parents in a wooded area so close to here...why did it intimidate her so much?_

_"You... you built this into this whole thing, didn't you? You made this happen because the mother...she's..." Regina drew a ragged breath and her body shook as if there were some kind of monster standing in front of her instead of a six week old baby and his mysterious past._

_"She's what, Madam Mayor? This mother you seem to fear so much."_

_"Oh, you really know nothing of what I'm talking about?"_

_"Well, I know you're upset, that much is clear."_

_Again, he tried to move away from her, tried to pick up his pen so he could figure out his rent leger but she only stayed and kept screaming at him._

_"You told me I'd come to you. That I'd have a hole in my heart. And...you want this to end. This town, what I built-you want to destroy it all by bringing the mother back! That's why you did all this!"_

_He'd never been more flabbergasted in his life. He prided himself on always having something to say whether it was in court or in politics or even in his shop, but he couldn't figure out how to respond to the Mayor. He wanted ever so desperately to tell her that she was the one that had asked for a baby and to remind her that if he wanted to destroy her precious town, the town that he owned, not the one that she'd built, he could do it all too easily. He didn't need a baby or the mother to do it, he just had to get rich selling the land to an oil company._

_But he held his tongue, and chose instead, for the sake of their brittle relationship and the town, to assume it was something other than lunacy bothering her, something a bit more common among new mothers: sleepless nights._

_"Do you know you have dark circles under your eyes? A weary tremble in your voice. Poor thing. Look what motherhood has done to you."_

_It was still a low blow, but it gave her the opportunity to realize she needed a babysitter so she could sleep. He wondered if her sheriff friend was good with babies. Maybe he could get Regina to sleep then watch Henry for her._

_"Play dumb all you want, you little imp!" she shouted at him over the counter. "You should know who you're dealing with by now. I sacrificed everything to build this life! And nothing will tear me away from my revenge!"_

_Suddenly Regina turned and picked the carrier at her feet up and strode back to the door. "Henry goes back to Boston! Tomorrow!" she shouted as she left the building. All things considered, he saw no point in trying to talk her out of it. Regina as a mother?! A life in foster care was better for that child._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, nothing we haven't seen before. Though, it is sort of fun writing this from Rumple's point of view, watching it not as an OUAT fan who knows what is going on and instead as Rumple and realizing just how crazy Regina sounds in this instant.
> 
> Thank you, RolfB and Ysabel, for your comments on the last chapter! I'm glad you liked it and have enjoyed out this little ficlet has gone so far! Only one chapter left! Peace and Happy Reading!


	11. Ordinary

_It was 2011. He'd owned the shop now for so long he couldn't remember how long he'd been doing this same routine. Each morning he woke up, stretched, and got into the shower. He dressed in a suit, adding layer after layer to make any who felt the need to deal with him feel underdressed. That was a trick he'd learned as a lawyer. In the morning, he read the newspaper, cooked himself some breakfast, eggs usually, with spinach if he had it. He drove to town and parked his car in the lot or on the street. He didn't live far from work, but he wasn't about to walk there. With his leg, he'd never manage, and besides, walking might give the impression he cared about something. He walked down the street every morning. Sometimes people lifted their eyes to him in acknowledgment. He never returned the favor. He barely paid any attention to Marco on the ladder as he walked swiftly by him._

_As he unlocked the door to his shop, he glanced at the abandoned library on the corner across from him. It always made him feel uneasy, probably because it was becoming an eyesore. One of these days, he would file a complaint with Regina about that, but today there was too much to do._

_Inside the shop, he opened the blinds and took a deep breath of the musty smell that came with age. It still felt like home, probably more like home than his pink house, which he still needed to get painted. He turned the sign behind him to "open" in case someone felt like coming in to make a deal in the short time he'd be in today, but then escaped to the back room just like always. It was his favorite place in his shop. The spinning wheel he'd first seen when he bought the place was back here, along with a fold-away cot for nights he got carried away and just decided to sleep there. There were two tables crowded into the back that he could use to polish or repair or clean or whatever he needed to do._

_Usually, when he left the previous night, he liked to set something out of the table, his first item on his precious to-do list, but this morning there was nothing on the counter because today was different. Today was rent day, just like it was on the fourth Sunday of every month. Today's task was collecting the rent. Odd, he knew from years and years of legal work, that a property owner would choose a Sunday to collect the rent and not a workday, but he wasn't exactly an ordinary property owner. And besides, Sunday worked for him. Sundays were always a slow day in the shop anyway, damn near a waste of time in this sleepy little town. But collecting the rent on Sunday also had the advantage that most of his tenants had work off and therefore would be home when he arrived to collect from them. That was another oddity. Most owners couldn't be bothered with collecting rent and preferred to let their tenants come to them. He could see the logic in that. But he saw an opportunity in collecting the rent that they didn't._

_Going personally door to door may have been time-consuming, but it was also intimidating. It was a reminder to his tenants that he was never far, that he knew who they were and where they lived. It also gave him the ability to check on his properties. And yes, with most of the tenants, he never made it in the front door of their homes, but a quick sweep of the property was all he needed to know to make sure they were tending to it as per their rental agreements._

_Of course, he couldn't accomplish this job all on his own. He had two goons, large muscular men that weren't the sharpest tools in the shed but looked intimidating enough to help. Apartment complexes had rent collected by their super intendants, his "assistants" usually collected from them. They also usually handled family homes in the area before turning over what was owed to him later, and of course, that was where he gave them their cut for the work. His task, aside from a few homes and apartments he liked to see to personally, was usually the businesses. So, after retrieving his ledger from his shop and looking over it for an hour, giving anyone who might want business with him plenty of time to come and find it, he locked the shop and began his canvassing._

_For the most part, the day went as he'd more or less expected. Most of the shops and businesses paid just as they always did on time. But there were some surprises along the way. The Sisters of Saint Meissa, the convent that had been renting from his family ever since his aunts had control, managed to scrape together what they needed for their rent. Pity. He'd felt sure he'd be able to evict them in October finally. And it was a surprise that the woman across the street who ran Any Given Sundae had managed to pay back the loan he'd given her some months ago. Considering it was the end of October and already chilly, he would have thought the demand for ice cream would have dropped with the temperatures, but she appeared to have done well for herself. That was fine. It was an account he was happy to close out. Moe French and his flower shop "Game of Thorns" was a disappointment. He went in expecting that he'd have managed to make rent this month but was surprised to find him requesting a loan. The loan wasn't a surprise, but the timing of it was. He'd expected, perhaps even hoped, that he'd need this loan one month later as he always gave his loans three months to pay them back. He'd hoped he'd request the loan next month, which meant he could have collected collateral close to Valentine's Day. He would have enjoyed watching that spectacle. But, as he left the flower shop no heavier or lighter than he'd entered, he decided he could always wait to collect a few extra weeks in January just to have his fun. It wasn't as though there was anything else to do in Storybrooke. And for some unknown reason, he hated Moe French with every fiber of his being. He didn't know why. He just did. Every time he saw the man, he wanted to wrinkle his nose and hit him. He considered it a personal triumph that he hadn't done that yet._

_The collection of rent from Granny wasn't a surprise. He wished he could say it was, but the only thing surprising about it was that he continued to allow this to go on year after year. Granny had two businesses in town. The Bed and Breakfast was anything but profitable just because no one ever came to Storybrooke. But that never seemed to matter because her second business, the diner, was probably the most profitable business in all of Storybrooke. Always busy, she raked in money, enough to pay for the diner and the Bed and Breakfast, and then some. But she never gave him rent on the day it was owed. Never. She always told him to come to the inn the next night, she always promised she'd have it for him then, and so far, she'd never failed. Why she wanted him always to wait was a mystery to him. Perhaps it had something with her books or how she paid her waitresses; he didn't know and didn't care, only wondered why he let her get away with it time and time again. It was odd. In the same way that he hated Moe French and didn't know why he had unending respect for Widow Lucas and could never figure out why. She didn't scare him. They weren't friendly. In fact, he was certain neither particularly liked the other, but he still respected her. Which was why, when he entered to collect rent, she simply sat his traditional burger with pickles in front of him, promised she'd have his money the next night, and then charged him for his meal before he left. She always charged him, even charged extra for the pickles. Perhaps that was why he respected her. She didn't accept give or take either, didn't try to flatter him or woo him, just carried on business as usual. Yes...that must have been it._

_Of course, that wasn't to say that his visit to Granny's Diner wasn't beneficial. He liked to say that he was above it, but there was always good gossip to overhear. Granny's was the heart of the town, the center of everything. It was here that everyone knew everything. Isolated as he was from the rest of the town as he worked alone in his little shop, he enjoyed hearing what was going on. Not because he cared, just because it liked to know. He appreciated knowledge, understood the power it had, and gathered the information he learned into a collection just as he did the rent. One could never know too much, as far as he was concerned._

_Today the talk of the town was all about Henry, the mayor's son, and Regina. It seemed the boy had run away…again. It wasn't his business, but sometimes he despaired thinking of why Regina had never given the boy back when she said she would. He never felt guilty over the situation, it wasn't his fault, and he could remember asking questions and making statements when she'd first asked him just so that he wouldn't feel guilty. But he did feel sorry for the poor boy. Regina had him seeing Dr. Hopper for therapy since before he could remember. Knowing the boy's true parentage, he'd always supposed it was only a matter of time until the boy ran away, and now it was becoming a habit. He'd shrugged at the news before he left. The boy always turned up somewhere, but he had a longstanding vow of his own making that he'd offer his assistance if he didn't. He might not think much of Regina as a mother, but he knew the world was the place for a young boy, or any child, to be on their own. He need only look at the boy's mother to prove that._

_But, by the next afternoon, when he'd returned to Granny, he'd received an update from whoever was sitting two seats down from him. The boy had been returned last night. He'd run away to, of all places, Boston, and he found himself rather impressed. Henry had run away before but never ventured outside of Storybrooke. That was daring. Fortunately for Regina, a woman had brought him back to town, but she'd been arrested last night, not for kidnapping, but rather for a DUI. Regina had probably loved that. Especially when he'd heard the latest update. The boy had run away yet again. As luck would have it, the woman who'd brought him back and been arrested was a bounty hunter. Sheriff Graham was letting her help him find the boy yet again._

_By the time he'd left Granny's, the boy still hadn't been found, but he wasn't particularly worried. From all accounts, he was convinced it was a family affair and didn't need his interference. He'd already done enough where young Henry was concerned._

_No, he was determined to focus not on the boy or the woman or even Regina and just get his work done. It was just another day in Storybrooke._

_Which was why he'd gone back to the shop after lunch, promptly finished work on the broken clock he'd set aside for himself after finishing the with the rent count and ledger, and then left at sundown for the Bed and Breakfast._

_Widow Lucas never did like to give up the rent money in front of everyone in the diner. It was probably smart. Not that there was much crime in Storybrooke, but there was no need for her to have that much money, always in cash, on hand behind the counter. The Bed and Breakfast was far safer. He didn't want to like her intelligence, but he did. He was impressed with her, always had been, and he imagined he always would be even if he didn't want to be._

_On this particular evening, when he entered the Bed and Breakfast, neither Grandmother nor Granddaughter greeted him. It was a bit unusual, but not when he considered that he was early and could hear both women upstairs arguing about something. He had no desire to interrupt them. Instead, he made himself comfortable in the parlor, taking a seat and waiting for them to come down. When they finally made their way down the staircase and could hear exactly what they were fighting about, he couldn't blame the old woman for wanting to have the conversation upstairs in private._

_"You're out all night, and now you're going out again!" Granny screamed._

_"I should have moved to Boston," Ruby retaliated._

_"I'm sorry that my heart attack interfered with your plans to sleep your way down the eastern seaboard."_

_He caught a glimpse of Ruby, the Granddaughter, as she passed the hallway and went into their pitiful little kitchen. How they managed to prepare meals there for their guests was a mystery to him, not that they ever had many customers at the Bed and Breakfast._

_"Excuse me?" a female voice interrupted. A voice he didn't recognize, odd. Eager to investigate, he pulled himself up and went to the little lobby where he could hear the women talking. Despite what Regina believed, this was his town. He didn't like not knowing who was in it. "I'd like a room."_

_A room. A true stranger to Storybrooke then. He wondered…the woman who had brought Henry back, the bounty hunter…was this her?_

_"Really? Would you like a forest view or a square view? Normally, there's an upgrade fee for the square but, as friends do, I'll wave it."_

_"Square is fine."_

_In the hall, Ruby straightened in the girl's presence, and he saw that the voice belonged to a young woman he'd never seen in a red leather jacket. Long blonde hair, tight jeans, young. There was no doubt in his mind. It must have been the girl everyone was talking about. She was staying here?_

_The girl seemed oblivious to him, but then so did Granny and her granddaughter, allowing him to sneak up behind her. He didn't like to have people in his town who he didn't know, but even more so, he didn't like to have people in this town who didn't know who he was. Where intimidation was concerned, no one excelled more than he did, and he wanted that fact known._

_"Now, what's the name?" Granny asked._

_"Swan," the girl answered. "Emma Swan."_

"Emma…" he breathed while a chill crept up his spine.

He had the sudden sensation he'd just been doused in cold water.

The scene before him was crisp and clear in a way it hadn't been moments ago.

A smile grew over his face as he took it in and the fog in his brain cleared for the second time in his life.

This time, everything happened the way it should.

Emma...

"What a lovely name."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, welcome to the end. I really hope that you enjoyed this story! The next story in The Dark One Chronicles is called The Chronicles of the Dark One: Breaking the Curse. It will cover everything season one in Storybrooke beginning with Rumple waking up in "Welcome to Storybrooke" and ending with Rumple bringing magic in "A Land Without Magic." The fiction is currently "in progress" with a five-day position schedule. New chapters will be posted every Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday through Saturday. 
> 
> Of course, if you liked what you read please give kudos or comments! I love getting those wonderful little gems in my inbox and communicating with the people reading on a personal level. And if you want to read more (and comment more), please check out any of the other fictions in the Chronicles. For more information on The Dark One Chronicles, the Moments Series, upcoming fictions, posting and publishing dates, or a reading order check out my profile for updates. Peace and Happy Reading!


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